


A Car's Tires on a Road

by SiSuSi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Christmas, Dark, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Fuckup!Dean, Idontknock!Sam, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Possibly Unrequited Love, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:01:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 66,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27477709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiSuSi/pseuds/SiSuSi
Summary: Sometimes you just want to be normal. It’s Christmas time and the Winchesters and Castiel start on a case that leaves them frustrated and confused. But not only the amount of weird killings and the lack of ideas has them on their toes. Sam tries to figure things out while Dean really doesn’t, and while Dean struggles with his own actions and desperately wants a normal Christmas he can’t help but wonder if he’s the real problem.-- The lines in the beginning of each chapter are lyrics from songs by Ben Platt --
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean finds ketchup very interesting, Cas reads the Bible, and Sam rolls his eyes.

_* Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on *_  
_______

I don’t know what’s real and I don’t know if I even care anymore. Even though it was supposed to be a normal, unspectacular hunt, things went their usual way down the drain. I wasn't prepared for it. All of it was nothing but a clever illusion.

It started when Sam and I took a job somewhere in the middle of bumfuck, Minnesota.

Snow scrunched under my black shoes on the way to the morgue and I pulled my coat a little tighter around myself against the stabbing cold. But the horror just wouldn't end as I stepped from terrible weather conditions into my own personal hell. Wherever you looked, tinsel, garlands, mistletoes and other godawful Christmas decoration. 

Christmas time used to be one of my favorite things. Building a Christmas tree with beer cans, buying cheap presents for Sam, or adding too much booze to my brother’s eggnog just to annoy the crap out of him. And let’s not forget hooking up with chicks feeling acutely lonely this time of the year. But what do you know, Sam had to pull me out of my cheerful celebratory mood at home and into a case that could as well be no case at all. Not for us, at least. It looked just like a normal, down-to-earth wack-job killing. And if I couldn’t have Christmas, nobody should.

Turning up in our usual fake FBI dress-ups, giving off our serious, overworked vibes — which we didn't even have to fake anymore at this point — we were quickly shown to the body in question, one Emilia Johnson.

“As you can see,“ the forensic pathologist elaborated, “the victim’s eyelids were cut off. Clean cut, too. I’m thinking very sharp object.“

“Like a scalpel,“ Sam threw in.

“Yes“

“So what’s the cause of death?“

The pathologist frowned. “Well. I have to get back to you on that. There are no other injuries I could detect, nor any visible damage to her internal organs. Blood test came back with zero evidence, too. My working theory at this point is heart failure.“

My eyes followed the pathologist walking out. As soon as we were alone I said, “Heart failure, huh?“ I had a closer look at the victim’s eyes, staring back at me blankly, with only bloody, incrusted cut wounds where her eyelids used to be. She looked horribly panicked.  
“Look, though freaking creepy, I don’t think this is our kind of deal, Sam.“

My brother’s face was all frown and consideration, not paying me much attention as he was deep inside the report he was reading. Which pissed me off a little bit.  
“I don’t know, Dean. We’ve gone on less. And no determinable cause of death? Seems worth checking out for me.“

“Yeah sure,“ I mumbled more to myself than to Sam. “Sure you would’ve managed to make just about anything worth checking out just so you don’t have to have a real Christmas with me.“

That, at least, made Sam look up. “Dean. Is this about your weird new obsession with Christmas? Or maybe the fact that you made me carry an eight feet tall tree into the bunker so you could decorate it with things that are wrong in— _so_ many ways. Something killed this woman. This is our job.“

It was hard to argue with Sam when he was all self-righteous and heroic like that. One might almost think he’d always been this dedicated. A true hunter, born and raised. But the way I remembered it, Sam only had this job because years ago I’d dragged him back into it. What happened to wanting a normal life? 

“Okay, first of all, it wasn't just a _tree_ , Sammy, it was a Christmas tree. And second, it could as well be a _who_ , who killed this girl.“ 

Sam didn't seem to agree on either of those points. If anything, it seemed to annoy him even more. 

“It’s probably just some wacko _human being_ , Sam,“ I went on. “I mean, there’s not a single sign this was supernatural. No bite marks, no missing heart, no sulfur, or even any wound at all. Well, except for the fact that poor Emilia here doesn't need mascara anymore.“ I raised my eyebrows, hoping it would deliver the speech. Which it did not. 

So the least I could do was lighten up the mood. “You could say someone… _lashed out_ on her.“ Nothing. “Get it? Because of the missing lashes and—“

“Dean.“ Sam took a deep, possibly calming breath. “What’s going on with you lately?“

“What d’you mean?“

“Well, for starters: since when aren't you up for hunting anymore? Like, I _literally_ had to drag you out of the bunker and away from your stupid tree that’s, by the way, crowding up our library. And you know what? That weird new fetish of yours isn't even close to how bad it was before that“

“What are you talking about?“

Sam gave me that long suffering look. “You know, Dean, if you don’t wanna talk to me about it, that’s fine. But don’t pretend I’m seeing things that aren't there.“ With that he just walked out. 

I’d never gotten off the hook that easily.

_________

“So, what are we thinking?“

“Chupacabra!“ I threw in with a smirk.

Sam congratulated me with one of his bitch faces.

“I’m fairly certain Chupacabras are extinct.“ Cas put in helpfully from where he was still glued to the floor since he’d appeared half an hour ago.

Sam gave him a brief look, half appreciative, half annoyed, then turned back to me. “Could you at least try and take this serious for just a moment?“

“I just don’t think this is our kind of gig, that’s all“

“Yeah, thank you,“ Sam snapped. “I think we all got that the first hundred times you said that.“

I rolled my eyes, then uncrossed my legs on the bed to pull them closer. “Fine. What about demons?“

“Demons are your answer to everything“

“I agree.“ Cas mumbled from his corner. 

I threw him a frown telling him he was a dirty traitor. “When the shoe fits. Could also always be angels, though. I mean, they always seem to have it with the eyes.“

I could feel the full intensity of Cas’ stare on me. I barely even dared looking and when I did I remembered why. For a moment, his catching eyes were the way they’d been back in biblical apocalypse times when Cas and his winged entourage had just come into our lives and I ignored about any of Heaven’s orders. His face was the same as that one time he’d said to me that I always did the exact opposite of what I was told. Then he looked away, and I chose to leave the matter alone. This time. 

It might look like I was only twiddling my thumbs here, but I did know this case wasn't about demons or angels. The victim with missing eyelids and mysterious cause of death had not just been killed and mutilated, she’d also been positioned in a certain kind of way. She’d been carefully seated in a chair, her arms and hands moved to hold the Bible of all things. As though she was reading it, unable to look away. And while that might have a tint of holy heavenly justice, or could as well be the work of some seriously messed-up religious fanatic psycho, for me it all screamed ghost. Black Eyes and the God Squad might all be major dicks with unsolved celestial and/or otherworldly daddy issues and a tendency to make it all about the words of one celestial being or the other, but they usually weren't that creative with their killings. While for ghosts, on the other hand, it was always personal, hence very specific. 

“How about we try and find deaths in the area first. I mean, relating to the way she was positioned,“ Sam suggested. “Maybe something related to religion or the Bible she held.“

“Which verse was it?“ Cas asked.

Sam checked his chaotic notes. “Uh, good question…“ 

_Is it?_ I thought. No matter how unimportant, Cas always got stuck on details. This wasn’t about the verse. Also, there were many verses on those two open pages, and the background check told us Emilia had been the religious type anyway. So maybe her killer just wanted to mock her. 

Sam and Cas went and discussed the verses then, a blurry mix of babbling in the back of my head, while I tried to think of things I could add to my tree. It still lacked some Christmas lights and maybe even fake snow, I thought. Perhaps I’d even get a nice table cloth or whatever to put under it for the presents to sit on. 

Thinking about Christmas was my happy place. My number one place to go in my head when I felt like I needed it. I was about to pick a fight again, with Sam or Cas, or even both of them. They’d teamed up against me. Dragged me through this case I didn't want to work on. Forced me into this. I felt constricted. Narrowed like a caged animal and disordered like they’d abandoned me on the side of the road. 

I took a sip from the glass on the nightstand, felt warm liquid wash over me, and my thoughts calmed. Maybe my drinking habits had gotten a little out of hand over the past weeks. Especially, because you can’t really call something a habit that you do without stopping.

__________

Sam was on one of his Library Love Tours to find out about local history and unnatural deaths in the area during the past couple of decades, which could take a while. It also gave me the marvelous possibility to think about all the impossibilities. Outside, a thick curtain of snowflakes made it hard to see anything but white and grey, and I was a little jealous. Back home, we only had a thin layer, already greyed here and there by the cars driving past. Here it was thick and bright white and it got even more every day. It was beautiful, I thought. Then I remembered I hated this place.

Our motel room felt smaller than normal and crowded in a way, even with only Cas and I in it. The couch seemed too big for this room, the two beds monstrous against the short, dark green wall, and I thought I could probably cross from one corner to the other with only two or three steps. The room felt dark. The vague hint of sunlight dropped shadows on the ground and walls and the ceiling seemed to be brighter than everything else. I blinked towards Cas, half his face illuminated by the old lightbulb, flickering from time to times, and I wondered if my presence was just as unsettling for him as his was for me.

I went back to pretending I was doing research, stubbornly staring at my laptop screen with the occasional sip from my beer. Meanwhile, Cas was doing actual research, seated on the worn-out couch with a big, dusty, ancient-looking Bible in his lap. He hadn't said a word since Sam had left. Not even looked at me, which was unusual for Cas, but a thing he did now. And I was just naturally suspicious of Cas acting suspiciously. Something was going on. 

“Hey, Cas,“ my mouth said out of nowhere, making the angel look up. “What’s going on?“

Cas tilted his head in that way of his, a frown slowly spreading on his forehead. Somehow it didn't look like his typical I’m-decidedly-unhuman-and-don’t-know-what-you-mean frown. 

“I mean,“ I started again, not even sure what exactly I meant, “you know… what uh… what’s on your mind?“

Cas’ head tilted more. “The ghost we are hunting. Obviously.“

“Obviously“

Another silence fell over us while I couldn't help but get distracted and think about how Cas should know the Bible by heart. You know, as an angel. Cas kept reading in it and every now and then one corner of his mouth would twitch upwards as though he was looking at a family photo album. 

“I don’t remember the Bible being funny,“ I said into the quiet after some minutes of deliberate staring. 

Cas looked up again, something odd in his eyes. “It’s not,“ he answered and looked back down. Rubbed his forehead and sighed. And when one or two minutes had passed I thought he wasn’t going to say more. Then, “It’s just wrong.“

“Wrong how?“ shot out of me like I was desperate for this conversation. Which I was not.

He smiled, then settled the heavy book on his lap. “Have you read it?“

“Uh yeah. For a fact, I have,“ I answered, rubbing my neck, uncomfortable by the iron stare those blue eyes suddenly fixed on me. 

Cas didn’t comment that, and when the staring contest and awkward silence got to me, I added, “Well, you know. After we learned about all that Michael’s sword and Lucifer’s vessel crap and that we’re supposed to fight an epic war and kill each other, I thought it’d be wise to do a little research on that heavenly apocalyptic shit show, that’s all.“

Cas nodded and looked back down at the Bible in his hands. “Many things written down in here—,“ he placed one hand on the pages, touching them like they were sacred. Contrary to what he said next. “— are… like you would put it: _bullshit_. Many things didn’t happen the way they’re described, or didn't happen at all.“

“Yeah, okay,“ I gave. “But you’re not supposed to take the Bible literally, right? It’s all metaphors and analogies.“ 

He nodded again, then closed the book, some sort of acceptance dawning in his face. “I don’t think the exact verse is of importance.“ 

__________

Apparently, my geek-ass little brother had found the perfect ghost. Fitting the crime, fitting the MO, fitting the everything, and I started to loathe the fact that Sam kept being right about things. I’d hated this hunt, hated every step of the way. Or perhaps I just hated being outside my cozy man cave in the bunker where I could do whatever the fuck I wanted and care only about myself and pizza and the occasional drink for good measure. Of course, in the long run, I would have had to deal with shit. Particularly because at some point I always ran low on the feeling of hunter life, the hunting of monsters, and generally killing things. It’d become second nature to me. Or maybe it always was. 

So when Sam had blustered into our motel room without knocking or any other foregoing warning, he did not only start babbling about the case and his findings but also rudely interrupted my precious routine of coping strategies — a mixture of trying to get drunk and still trying to do my job, while absolutely ignoring Cas in the process to avoid awkward conversations. 

Now we were in the middle of digging out the grave of one Anna Johnson, deceased in the 1980s. She’d been poisoned by her fiancé, who happened to be a plastic surgeon at the time, hence her plastic face and body, disfigured from top to bottom by what must have been at least two dozen surgeries. Sam had spoken to one of Anna’s remaining family members, learning that she’d kept trying to become more and more beautiful, because Anna, she just wanted to be seen. Psychological analysis aside, that chick seemed to be just the kind of ghost who’d cut off someone’s eyelids. 

It still didn't explain the Bible involved, though, or the fact that there was no EMF at the crime scene, but Sam was so sure, I wouldn’t just go and steal his thunder. No, I would shut up, dig out this grave and burn the bitch. Rise to the challenge of a boring hunt and all the boring research and all the boring not-stabbing and not-beheading and the fact that all that had me crawl out of my skin with nonexistent stress relief. 

I felt uneasy. All this didn't feel difficult enough, I’d say. It was kind of ironic that I didn't want to hunt and still really wanted to hunt at the same time, and Sam used my little moment of soul-searching to stop digging and sigh. 

“What?“ I asked in between digs. “You tired already?“

“Yeah, maybe,“ Sam said, wiping his sweaty forehead. “You’re not?“

I threw him a side look. “I just wanna finish the job.“

“So you can go back home to your tree-girlfriend.“

I looked at him again, my brow rising dangerously. “So I can burn a damn ghost bitch.“

“Uh-huh,“ Sam gave, then started digging again. “Since when are you actually working this case? I thought it’s just some wack-job human?“

Now I stopped, too. “And I thought you thought it’s not.“

“Okay“

“Okay?“

“Yeah. Okay.“

Of course I knew what Sam was doing. He was trying to make me talk about feelings and emotions and all that crap. But I’d be damned if I wouldn't recognize the route Sam was taking with this. I knew I’d need to put the kibosh on this before it’d get too serious. Only that I was too annoyed to just let it slide. I was only a few “okay“s and “I thought“s shy of bursting out with a massive sequence filled with curses, accusations, and truths. There was no kibosh to put on that. 

“What, it’s not cool when I’m not in, but it’s not cool when I’m in either?“

“Yeah, no, it’s fine,“ Sam said stupidly. 

“Oh god,“ I whined. “Just spit it out already“

“I just thought—“

“There we go…“

“Dean.“ Sam shot me a warning look. “I’m worried here, okay?“

“Yeah. I get that,“ I spat, sarcastic tone at the ready and showing my brother my warmest fake smile. “I’m fine, Sammy. In fact, I’m A-OK. I’m super.“

“And why don’t I believe you?“ Sam asked. “I just think—“

“For fuck’s sake, Sam. Would you just stop thinking and keep digging, or so help me, I —“ My shovel hit something hard and solid. “Got it.“

For once, I was happy to open a smelly, dusty coffin and be welcomed by the sight of bones and the smell of rotten, if only to finally make Sam shut up. I wouldn’t whine about problems that weren’t there just because my brother was all touchy-feely and needed to talk emotions to someone to get it out of his system. I would talk about it when and where I wanted to, and as and when required.

We climbed out of the grave and salted the remains, then lit it all up. Case closed. Bitch gone. Everybody go home. 

“You got the wrong grave, boys“

Both Sam and I turned and found a girl standing there with her arms crossed and all the smugness in the world all over her appearance. The heel of her black sneakers dug into the cold graveyard earth as a smile built in her face that was far too warm and friendly for our usual interrupting possibly-villain of the week. 

“And who the hell are you?“ I asked in my usual eloquence. “Hunter Barbie? Demon extra number 678? A concerned neighbor?“

“I’m Lilian,“ she said dubiously, uncrossing her arms and making a step towards us. “Daughter of Lilith.“

I immediately drew my gun, although I knew it wouldn’t do much to a demon but piss it off. In the corner of my eye I saw Sam pull out the demon knife. “Sorry about your mom. Oh _wait_ , we’re the ones who killed her.“

She stopped. Closed her eyes. As she opened them again I expected the charcoal-black demon eyes they liked showing around so much you’d think they were fashion statements. I already anticipated all the I-told-you-so-s I’d throw in Sam’s way. Then she started laughing. And I saw no black eyes. “Just _kidding_ , guys. Should’ve seen your faces, though. I’m not a dem—“ All of a sudden, her voice was about an octave higher and her entire posture changed. “Wait, you guys killed Lilith?“

We both lowered our weapons, Sam rolling his eyes while I just frowned.

“Yeah,“ Sam said. “How d’you know about her?“

“Well, let’s just say she really fucked me over. I’m Carly. Carly Sorokin. My friends call me Car.“

“Your friends call you Car?!“ I asked.

She looked from Sam to me with a raised brow. “I didn’t say they were good friends.“

“Okay,“ Sam interrupted our starting staring match. “I’m Sam Winchester, this is my brother Dean. Are you a hunter then?“

“Yep,“ Carly said, looking back to Sam. “I figure you guys are here for that poor Emilia girl. She’s not the first, though. Been here for a while now, and I still got no clue what’s going on in this town.“

“What you mean?“ 

“Victims just keep coming. Some have similarities, others really don’t. I haven’t figured out what’s behind all this. I just sure as hell know it’s not some ghost.“

“How d’you know?“ I threw in.

“Been there, done that,“ she said, stretching her arms out. 

I looked around, only now noticing all the stirred dirt around here. She must have dug out a lot of graves in her time here, by the looks of it. It was dark, but the moon shed a bit of grey light on the ground, showing where the earth was fresh and damp and where it was overgrown with grass and covered by snow. The air smelled of wet plants and of our shovel work and like the night would freeze over everything. I felt a little stupid. 

“Tons of crazy dead people around here. Anyway,“ she said, clapping her hands together. “I guess we could work together, huh? Been a while since my last hunter team-up.“

“Yeah, sure,“ Sam decided, for some reason smiling like an idiot. I raised a brow at him. 

“Cool. How about we hit a diner and I fill you in? I’m starving.“

“Not hungry,“ I gave, somehow suspicious of her.

“Yeah, sure,“ my brother said at the same time, as though I wasn't even there and Sam had spontaneously forgotten he knew more than two words. 

I threw my hands up in surrender and followed them, once again ignoring my gut feeling. I craved a day without any gut feelings. I craved my own bed and my home and my tree. I craved a normal fucking Christmas in the bunker with my brother, like normal fucking people do.

______________

Sam and Carly clearly had a thing going on between them. While I was trying to peacefully eat the fries my brother had forced on me, those two had some sort of shared geek orgasm, very near to climax and spread their gross wisdom all over the place. I can’t really remember what exactly they were saying because all I cared about was the pool of ketchup on my plate. 

For some reason, I missed Cas. Sure, I’d seen him only a few hours ago, but even when I was with him I still missed something. I thought of one of the items hanging on my Christmas tree, a little angel with white wings made of goose feathers. An ugly little thing I’d found at a Gas’n’Sip somewhere in Idaho a couple of weeks ago, but I liked it. Even painted it some blue eyes with a sharpie only to earn an annoyed look from Cas that one time he’d actually shown up for once. Even while it was too tall for the library and too heavy to stand on its own, so I had to fix it to a book shelf with wire, I liked my tree. But my happy train of thought accompanied by the bitter-sweet taste of ketchup was rudely interrupted when Sam talked to me. 

“Dean,“ he said, “are you even listening?“

“No“

Sam sighed dramatically, and Carly giggled like a Japanese school girl. “Well. Car just told me about the other victims. They’re all still alive, but severely injured. I think we should go talk to them again. See if we can find any connections to the latest case.“

“Uh-huh“ I didn’t care about the details, I just wanted to get this case over and done with and go back home. Of course I knew I was being deliberately difficult, but until they got me something to stab or shoot I wasn't particularly interested in the process of getting there. 

Then Carly’s phone rang and spared me of Sam’s speech about whatever his face was building up to. “Agent Coldwater,“ she said into her phone, winking at me as though I was supposed to get some joke. “Alright. I’ll be there in a few. Yeah. Thank you.“ She hung up and threw Sam a serious face that looked somewhat foreign on her. “There’s another body.“


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean almost throws up, Cas gets coffee, and Sam didn't go fishing

_* there’s a worry that I can’t place *_  
________

A moment ago, I could swear I saw the little plastic angel on my Christmas tree light up its eyes and set fire to everything, then I suddenly felt a hand on my face. I cracked open my eyes, feeling kind of sticky when a blurry version of Cas came into view, looking down on me like I grew a second nose. 

“What’s going on?“ 

“Dean,“ he said in his gravelly voice. “I think you had a bad dream.“

“Okay?“

“I woke you up.“

He still had that hand on me, the heavy warmth of his skin on my sweaty cheek, neck, temple, and everywhere I really didn't need it to be a presence I couldn't really handle. “Last time I checked you only needed one finger for that.“

“My apologies.“ He said, then pulled away his hand, leaving my face cold. 

I sat up and rubbed my forehead, trying to wake up from what was supposed to be only a short nap. But when I looked outside I figured it was nighttime already. I must have slept for several hours. Cas still stood there at the side of my bed, looking concerned, and I couldn't shake the feeling that he knew what I’d been dreaming. 

His hand re-settled on my shoulder, somewhat uncertain, though. “Don’t worry,“ he said. “Christmas decoration cannot set a tree on fire, Dean. Unless it’s candles because then of course—“

“Alright, alright. Way to stalk my dreams, you creep.“

It seemed Cas took that rather as an insult than the joke it was meant to be, and I already saw five layers of explanations and apologies brewing in his face. One might think a creature as old as him should know the difference by now. Luckily, Sam and Carly chose that exact moment to come crashing into the motel room, laughing and, again, without knocking first. Carly instantly fell silent, her eyes jumping back and forth between Cas and me while her eyebrows seemed to rise a little more with each look. 

“Uh, Cas,“ Sam said helpfully. “This is Carly. She’s a hunter and helps us with our case.“

“Uh, excuse me. _You’re_ helping me with _my_ case,“ she said. Sam smiled. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Carly,“ Cas said, reaching out his hand to her like the proper stick-in-the-ass gentleman he was. There was enough eye contact between them to fill an entire year of casual eye contact statistics, and something in my brain felt the need to break it. Carly’s eyes beamed in a not so casual way, and for some reason I had the feeling there was a silent conversation going on between them. 

“So,“ Sam interrupted their little moment. “We’ve just been at the morgue“

“Really? And there I thought you two have just been fishing all night.“ 

Cas threw me a confused look.

“Fishing?“ Carly asked.

“Dean,“ Sam chided.

“It’s a metaphor,“ I said, turning to Carly. “You know, something to do with _hooking up_ and all that“

“ _Oh_ ,“ she made. 

“ _Dean_ “

“What about the dead body?“ Cas asked.

Sam ran a hand over his face. “Alright, so get this. The vic, one Karen Mulligan, also lacked her eyelids, though this time there were bite marks on her neck“

“Vampire?“ I asked.

“Sure looks like it,“ Carly said. “Maybe a new, creepy gourmet type of vampire that has it for eyelids? Maybe it’s a delicacy, who knows?“

I pulled a face. The picture of eyelid-eating vampires wasn't really appealing right after waking up from a dream involving evil supernatural Christmas decoration. “But the other vics didn't have any bite marks“

“Well, we were thinking,“ Sam said, shooting Carly a warm smile, “that maybe this vampire just recently got turned and is still in… training“

I raised a brow. My stomach felt grumpy, like it was either trying to tell me to eat something or trying to tell me that I couldn’t seriously believe that. But fuck my gut, I needed something to do. “Alright. Good enough for me. Let’s behead some bitches.“ With that I got out of bed, accidentally hitting Cas’ shoulder with mine, which made him look at me strange. 

“Well,“ Sam trailed.

“It’s late,“ Carly stated the obvious. “Also, we need to find its nest or whatever first. So we thought you two,“ she smiled, her finger wiggling to and fro between Cas and me, “could go ask around in town tomorrow and find out if anybody heard something.“

“ _You_ thought, huh?“ I looked at Sam. “What’s that face of hers about?“ 

“Uh,“ Cas made next to me, a very unfamiliar sound, coming from him. And when I turned to him there was something like mild disappointment in his face. Or was it? Even from this close I couldn’t tell what his face was trying to say, or maybe trying to hide, but either way, he didn't look too happy. 

“Fine“

Carly applauded my consent, but I wasn't sure whether she was happy to get to be alone with Sam or happy that I’d be alone with Cas. 

__________________

“I don’t understand, Dean. I thought we’re supposed to talk to people in this town.“

I looked over at him, my brow raised. “This bar is a part of town, right? Also, that were the most words in a row you said to me in ages“

“That’s not true.“

“Yeah,“ I said, turning back to my drink. “Maybe“

A few minutes in silence passed in which Cas turned his bottle of beer around in his hands without drinking any of it and I stared into my glass as though there was something to find in it. I wished he was a guy you could get drunk and distracted, but with all that shiny grace in him I’d probably need the alcohol resources of all of Minnesota. 

“Dean“

I sighed. “Look, Cas. We’ll talk to people eventually, but first we’re having drinks“

I felt him finally turn away from me on his barstool and hoped for dear life he was silenced for now. I couldn't handle a nervous Cas, and it hit me that I had no clue why he was. I knew why I was. There was that giant invisible elephant standing between us. It made me question every thought I had and every word I wanted to say. It made me want to talk to him and at the same time run away as far as I could. Every time I looked at Cas I could feel it, and now that I pictured it I thought it was probably pink and glittery, but not in a good way. Not that glitter was ever a good thing. I was about sixty percent sure Cas could feel it, too, the way he kept tiptoeing around me and either stared at me for endless minutes or didn't look at me at all. 

“Dean,“ he said again. “Maybe I should talk to the bartender.“

“Yeah,“ I gave back, turning my hanging head towards him. “Maybe let _me_ do that.“

Something in his thoughtful, innocent expression turned sour and I couldn't only tell by the too deep lines between his brows and too blue eyes he fixed on me.

“What,“ he spat, “you don’t think my people skills are capable?“ Again with the quoting fingers. 

“No. No, your… people skills are… well, they’re not as shitty as they used to be“ 

It didn't seem to impress him much, his look turned even more sour. “Well, go ahead then,“ I said, as if he needed my permission. He was a baby with questionable sense of fashion, but I had to remind myself he could smite me right here and now. Celestial wavelength and all that. 

“Excuse me, Sir,“ he said as the bartender walked past us. A tall, broad-shouldered guy with tattoos all over his arms and neck and a stare with the potency of a death threat. Not someone I’d particularly call “Sir“. 

“’Nother beer?“ the guy asked. 

“No, thank you. I was wondering if you know anything about the murders occurring in this town?“

Look at that. Polite, eloquent and spoken like a true fake agent. It had me a little surprised. I’d totally expected Cas to mention vampires, or monsters in general, and then screw up the whole conversation by proclaiming he was an angel on a mission. 

“You guys cops?“

“Something like that,“ I said, taking a sip from my drink. 

“U-huh,“ the bartender made, shooting me a weird look. “Cops don’t usually drink at two in the afternoon“

“Oh, you have no idea,“ I muttered. 

“We’re currently looking for a man or woman, maybe still young, who suddenly acted strange, or at least different to how they acted before,“ Cas continued. 

“Strange how?“

“Like they were really hungry? Starving, in fact. Craving for unusual things like—“

“He means like they were on drugs,“ I cut Cas off. Better safe than sorry, I thought. “Crazy nervous, strolling around, fixing people with a weird look. Things like that, basically“

The bartender looked back at me, then shot another look at Cas. “Uh. No? Can’t say that I’ve seen anyone like that.“

“What about any new-born religious fanatics?“ I asked.

“Dean. I told you it wasn't specifically about God’s word.“

“Yeah,“ I turned to Cas. “You haven't told me _why_ you think that, though“

Cas looked down at the counter. “I’m still working on that.“

“And how’s that going, Columbo?“

“I—“

“Alright, boys,“ the bartender interrupted. “I need to go back to work“

“One last question,“ Cas hurried. “What about someone who desperately wants to be seen?“

The guy frowned. “This is small town America, dude. Everyone knows everyone. Nobody goes unnoticed here.“

“Someone new in town maybe?“ I asked. 

“We haven't had anyone new here since I graduated Highschool.“

Well, this clearly was a dead end street. The bartender left us with a grumble. Nobody knew anything, nobody saw anything, nobody was helping. In small towns like this, whenever someone dropped dead people always came up with their theories on who did it. And with this being the only bar around here, you’d think the bartender would hear shit all day. Either this whole town was part of a massive conspiracy, or they were all blind and deaf. Either way, asking around wasn't the answer.

______________

The backdrop of the setting sun painted the sky outside in reds on a day that barely qualified as thrilling and an afternoon that seemed to honor that by raising more questions. There was a worry somewhere inside me that I just couldn't place. And not even my fifth drink today could silence it. I hadn't had this many drinks this early in the day since what felt like forever, not ever since I’d decided I had _not_ screwed it all up, and then stole a tree. With a subtle look over at Cas, who was seated on that godawful couch again, reading, I knew it was all just a fantasy. It wasn't all fine. A stolen tree with un-Christmas-y decoration on it and a staged Christmas wasn't going to help anything. Cas had always been a bookworm, but never had he read so much when I was around. Nowadays, it seemed he only ever read when I was there, which made me wonder if he even still wanted to be around me. 

I was just about to gather some balls and start a conversation I’d subtly lead to our great pink and glittery elephant when Sam and Carly waltzed into the room. Seemed like this crowded little eyesore was her place as well now, since she appeared to be Sam’s fifths limb. Distantly, I wondered where she’d stayed before she’d met us. Sam scuffled over to the table I was sitting at and dropped himself onto the chair. He wasn't really subtlety on two legs. 

“What?“ I asked, a little too irritated for the situation at hand. 

“I don’t understand this case,“ Sam said, more to himself than to me. 

“We could always just go, you know,“ I said. “Pack up and leave. Go home and have Christmas.“

“Why, thank you, asshole,“ Carly spat. “And there I thought you were a hero and I was blessed to get your help.“ She dropped a cup of take-away coffee in front of my face. “Brought you and Cas coffee. You’re welcome.“

“ _One_ coffee?“

“YES, ONE COFFEE!“ she yelled. Then she looked over at Cas, who’d finally stopped reading — right the moment they’d entered the room, point proofed — and her face melted into something odd and ugly from where I saw it. She smiled in a devious kind of way and all her fume had vanished. “I’m low on cash and I thought you guys are so close you could just—“

“Nope,“ I cut her off. “No. Don’t finish that thought.“ I looked at Cas. “I’m not gonna share this with you, just FYI.“ There was a slight nod, then he looked back down into his book. I couldn't handle it. Again with the disappointed eyes and brooding shoulders and the stupid wrinkles in his face. “Alright, alright, you baby. You can have it.“

“ _Awwww_ “

“Shut up, Car.“ I threw her a warning look. “So. Since we’re apparently not leaving this pile of crap of a case behind: Sammy, would you please elaborate“

Sam looked up at me and raised his brow. “Well, as you know, we’ve been talking to the other vics. It was a total waste of time. There’s no connection, Dean. No MO, nothing special about the vics, not even a motive! At least I can’t tell. It doesn't make any sense.“

“Whatever it is, at least we know where it is.“ That didn’t help his mood. Maybe because in this case the where involved an entire town plus outskirts and surrounding lands. “We’ll find something,“ I said, probably more to cheer up my pain-in-the-ass little brother than because I actually believed it. 

“How?“ the stubborn bastard asked. “We don’t even know what it is! Ghost? Vampire? Demon? I have no freaking clue, Dean. Do you?“

“Well, no. But we’re three trained hunters and a fucking Angel of the Lord, I’m sure we’ll figure this bitch out.“

Sam huffed.

Carly smiled.

Cas looked like he only just remembered he wasn't human.

I realized that I probably wasn't as good as a motivational speaker as I’d thought I was. “Look, guys, maybe we just need to go at this from a different angle. We keep trying to find out what we’re up against. I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t know any monsters who position dead bodies, occasionally drain people or cut off their eyelids, and bite like a vampire, but not always. There’s no visible pattern in the choice of victims either, right? No visible motive. No MO—“

“I already said all that,“ Sam grumbled. “What’s your point, Dean?“

“My point is, when you can’t figure out what it is, it’s either one deranged person messing around with us, _or_ it’s more than one thing.“

“Or both,“ Cas said.

“Look, it speaks!“ I scoffed and instantly earned another sour look. “What d’you mean both?“

“I _mean_ ,“ he gave back, his voice sounding even more exasperated than his face gave away, “it could as well be several people messing with us.“

“Yeah, okay, but that wasn't my point“

“I am well aware of your _point_ “

“Are you now?“

“You guys are so cute together“ 

“Car,“ Sam warned.

“Yes, Dean. I am,“ Cas stated, stubborn all the way down to the stick in his ass. 

“Are you sure? Because last time I checked—“

“GUYS,“ Sam cut me off. “Whatever this fight is about — god knows I don’t wanna know — let’s just settle it for now and try figure out what’s going on. Alright?“

________________

We didn’t figure out what was going on. At least not before another body dropped and we found ourselves at the morgue again. Not all four of us, thank god, only Sam and I. As I was looking down at the girl on the table in front of me I had to loosen my tie a little to keep myself from throwing up my early dinner. 

“What _the fuck_ is going on, Sam?“

“According to the report, her heart is missing.“

“Beautiful. But I meant her freaking face, dude“

“Well,“ he said with a terrifying calmness I couldn't at all relate to, “that’s missing, too, I guess.“

“You _guess_? Look at her!“ 

Before me lay a pale naked dead girl with raw stitches all across her body, one going from between her collarbones all the way down to the center of her chest. The area around that and all over her ribcage was painted in blues and purples, bruised badly from what must have been a shitload of punches. And then there was her face. Or the lack of it. She looked like one of those plastic teaching dolls in biology class. If it wasn't for all the dried blood, I’m sure I could have counted every facial muscle and every sinew and vein. Her teeth were bare and almost resembled a wide smile, which would have been hilarious, if it weren't for her eyes looking so huge and shocked to death. I don’t know why it grossed me out as much as it did, or why I suddenly thought missing hearts were beautiful, but it could be the fact that these cases kept making less sense. I mean, it wasn't the grossest thing I’d ever seen, even when it was definitely in the Top 10 of Greatest Hits in Grossness, but werewolves usually don’t rip off faces. 

“Werewolves usually don’t rip off faces,“ I voiced my thoughts, swallowing my increasing nausea. Poor Tracey. Poor, pretty, big-boobed Tracey. 

“It wasn't ripped off,“ Sam commented dryly, eyes still deep in the report. No wonder he wasn't feeling sick. “It was cut off. And— wait. It says here the heart was removed surgically. These bruises here are from a rib spreader.“

“Again: beautiful. So?“

“Dean, get your head out of your ass and concentrate for a second. This wasn't a werewolf.“

“What, werewolves don’t get to be surgically skilled now?“

He looked at me in that I’ve-had-enough-of-your-bullshit kind of way. “This could be the connection, Dean. Remember the first and second victim? Their eyelids were cut-off surgically, too, and Car said that some of the other victims before that, the ones that weren't killed, had cuts and puncture wounds on their arms. Maybe we’re looking for some rogue surgeon, or uh— maybe a surgeon’s ghost or something.“

“What about the bite marks on number two?“

“What, people don’t get to be monsters sometimes?“ he mocked. 

“Shut up. We’ve already had that surgeon angle, though. Kind of.“

“We should go back and talk to Car about it, maybe she’s got an idea what to do next,“ he said, his face all determination and hidden admiration. 

Sam was already on the way out, so much in a hurry apparently that he’d just dropped the report on the body and left all of that for someone else to put away properly. 

“What’s going on between you two?“ I dared to ask on the way to the car. 

“What?“ Sam made, voice high-pitched. “Nothing’s— what’re you talking about?“

“Sammy and Carly,“ I started singing, “sitting on a tree“

“What are you? Twelve?“

“I don’t know, how old are you again? Too young to get your flower picked?“

He turned on his heel, stared me down. It was funny how he kept trying to intimidate me when I was being annoying. His ginormousness and fabulous hair didn’t fool me, though. I still saw my little baby brother chewing on Cheerios while watching Scooby Doo.

“Look. I like her, okay? But not like that. She’s smart and maybe she’s even pretty—“

“Pretty, huh?“ I smirked. 

Sam growled. “Point is—“

“Oh _god_ , there’s a point“

“ _Point is_ ,“ he continued, his eyes darkening some more, which only made my smirk grow wider. “I’m not even sure who she really is and I know nothing about her past and I don’t trust her.“ He wiped his sweaty forehead. “But she _is_ nice. I like working with her. And to be honest, I like that she gives me the chance to get away from you and Cas and whatever fight you two are having.“

“Don’t think you can distract me by bringing up Cas,“ I warned, my finger pointed at his chest. 

“I’m not trying to distract you, Dean. Whatever, man. Let’s just go.“

“And to think that for years you made fun of _me_ for having an unhealthy relationship to a car.“


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean finds a tattoo, Cas sits on a couch, and Sam groans on the floor

_* I’ll do what I can to make you see that *_  
__________

It was a new day with all the possibilities in the world ahead of us. I’d had about as good as a night as they come for me, even with the picture of a faceless girl haunting me, Sam snoring and groaning on the floor all night, because he’d insisted Carly slept in his bed, and Cas run off to god knows where. I could be annoyed by Sam embarrassing himself while trying to charm a girl, or I could be worried about Cas, but beautiful weather and the sun making a thick layer of snow glitter everywhere lifted my spirits. Christmas was in the air and I’d hoped I could stay in the mood long enough to appreciate it. I just hadn't expected the day to start with yet another crime scene. 

Sam cleared his throat awkwardly from where he was piled into the passenger’s seat. “So, uh, Car,“ he began. “I never asked. Where are you from?“

And there I’d thought those two had spent enough time together by now to have gotten through the phase of small talk. 

“Russia“

“Really?“ Sam turned in his seat. I could feel his interest antennas gear up like she’d just thrown him a bone. 

“No“

“Oh,“ Sam made, then chuckled nervously. 

A long stiff silence followed in which I honestly suffered the most of everyone. Sam kept fidgeting in his seat, a nervous gesture he always had whenever he desperately wanted to ask questions but didn't feel like it was the right moment. I rolled my eyes and looked in the rearview mirror, finding Carly smile out of the window. It wasn't a long drive to the outskirts of town, past fields covered in shiny snow and the occasional barn decorated with colorful lights. But those two sure made it feel long. 

“Your last name, Sorokin, sounds kinda Russian, though,“ Sam finally said. 

“Because it is,“ she answered, clearly not up to elaborate. 

“So, are your parents from Russia?“

“No“

“Grandparents?“

I groaned. I hadn't meant to, but I couldn't help it. Carly chuckled, Sam shot me that look made of pure hatred that I totally deserved. It was clear she didn't want to talk, but Sam didn't seem to get the message. I missed the old Sam a little, the one who was too scared to get another girlfriend killed to even look at a woman. It’d been sad to watch, but also less embarrassing. I must have been stuck in my own head for too long during the past couple of months, or even years, because I appeared to have missed the part where he’d changed from lonely and sad to desperate and pining. I wondered how that’d happened. 

“What d’you boys think waits for us there?“ Carly asked at some point. “It sure sounded mysterious“

“Hopefully something that helps us solve this freaking case,“ I grumbled. 

“You really don’t wanna be here, do you?“ she stated more than asked. As if I’d talk about what I wanted to some stranger who was about as open about herself as a high security prison cell. She touched my shoulder then and smiled at me when I turned to her for a second too long.

“Watch the road, would you,“ Sam snapped at me. 

Her hand slipped off me and I, for once, did as Sam asked and watched the road, which didn’t seem to end any time soon. Every now and then, I looked in the rearview again. The blond of her hair reflected the sunlight coming in through the window and the tip of her long elegant nose was reddened from the cold. She wore a big black-and-white patterned scarf today. It was the first time I saw her dressed in anything fitting the weather. She also wore browline glasses today and I only just now noticed the tattoo behind her right ear. I could see what Sam saw in her. If a little weird and socially uptight, she seemed cool. There was something calming about her.

“If you mean I’d rather be in my awesome bunker preparing Christmas right now than out here in the cold solving crimes, then yes. I really don’t.“

“You know, Dean,“ she said. “Christmas out in the snow in this beautiful place while solving crimes and helping people in the process sounds like a pretty cool Christmas to me“

“Oh yeah? Last time I checked we weren't solving anything. And who am I helping? Dead girls one to four would disagree with you.“

“Well, you’re helping me, aren't you?“ she said and touched my shoulder again. “And what’s to say against a true mystery? Where’s the fun in easy?“

I couldn't really argue with that. She was right in a way. I couldn't remember when I last had a case that wasn't crackable and solved within a few days and didn't involve any apocalypses. It was always either easy and boring or things that made me miss the run-of-the-mill ghost hunt of the week. This case was a bitch, but I’d be damned if I wouldn't figure it out. Maybe I’d even get to name a new species of monster, if I was lucky. Maybe it was some sort of winter monster we just hadn’t come across yet. Maybe Frosty the Snowman, who knew. That’d definitely be worthy of fucking up my Christmas. But then again, where better to spend Christmas than in a snow-covered no man’s land swimming in tinsel and glitter?

_______________

“He was tall and hairy and he was wearing a wool coat with a big hood on his head but I saw his face anyway“

“Okay,“ Sam said, trouble writing it all down as fast as it came. “What else can you tell us, Sir?“

“His face was _ugly_ “

“Okay, uh—“

“And he walked with a limp. I saw him shoot that poor girl and then he limped away like he was on hoofs,“ the man said with a deadly conviction. 

“Hoofs“

“Yes. _Hoofs_. And I thought I saw something hairy peek out from under his coat“

“You mean like a tail?“

The man nodded eagerly. Sam threw me a look, barely containing his amusement. 

“Don’t you make fun of me, agents,“ the man chided, unfortunately our only eye witness. “I know who it was!“

“And who’s that?“ I asked. 

“Krampus!“

“As in stealing presents and ruining Christmas Krampus?“ I asked.

“That’s the Grinch, Dean,“ Carly said. 

“No! Krampus! The guy who punishes the bad during Christmas time,“ the man said, his hand on his chest as his breathing turned into terrified gasping. 

“Alright, Sir,“ Carly said and turned the man away, walking a few steps with him. “Why don’t you sit and calm down“

I turned to Sam, who’d apparently given up on taking notes. “Krampus,“ I repeated. “Freaking Krampus?!“

“Look, Dean, at least we got a description now. Sort of…“

“You’re kidding, right? First we’re on Ghost Barbie stealing eyelashes. Then we’re looking for vampires. Then Dr. Frankenstein cutting out organs. And now Santa’s German sidekick?!“

“Maybe it’s a trickster,“ Sam mumbled to himself. 

“Trying to ruin Christmas?“

“Yeah,“ Sam gave like I’d just said the smartest thing ever. 

“And we’re back to Grinch.“ I threw up my hands in surrender and walked back to the car. 

“Tricksters are all about just deserts, right?“ I said back in the Impala, still waiting for Carly to finish her shrink session with Mr. Crazy, or whatever she was doing. “I don’t see it. Not here with this Martha chick and not in the other cases either.“

“Yeah, you’re probably right,“ Sam said. 

“Excuse me? I thought I just heard you say I’m right“

“I said you’re _probably_ right. Whatever.“ He sighed, looking out the front and at Carly still kneeling in front of the witness. “Hey, uh… you think something’s off about Car?“

I raised a brow. “Maybe she’s just not that into you, dude“

“No, that’s—“ He scowled at me. “That’s not what I mean.“

“Are you still jealous because she so seductively touched my shoulder?“ I smirked. “Twice?“

“I’m not jealous,“ he shot. “By the way, what did that feel like?“

I raised my brow more. Either he was trying to not so subtly figure something out here or he was in desperate need of a lay. “You want a shoulder rub, too?“

“Dean“

“Because I’m sure if you ask her nicely, she’d —“

“Dean. I’m serious.“

“— sure rub you wherever you want“

“Dude. Forget it.“

_____________

We stopped for takeaway and settled back into our room for a nice, good old group discussion. And, oh wonder, Cas blessed us with his presence, too. Our next step was to try and get order into these cases, summarizing everything we knew. We had several victims being cut into and either injected stuff or taken blood from, but still alive. We had two victims with missing eyelids, one with bite marks, the other dead because of heart failure, as the coroner had confirmed this morning. Then there was the dead girl missing her entire face and her heart, and the latest victim, who was gunned down by The Beast. Or Krampus, if you believe crazy farmer guy. 

Now. We were sure victims one and two were killed by the same thing. Victim three looked like a vamp kill. And whatever was up with victim four, we were fairly certain Krampus didn't use guns. 

“What if we try and find someone who knew all of them?“ I asked.

“Dean, we already tried that,“ Sam said.

“No, you tried to find the one who killed those people,“ I gave back. “But I’m talking about someone they just all had to do with.“

“For what?“

“Let’s say someone _is_ setting us up. What would you do if you were them?“

“Try and throw us off the scent,“ Sam answered. 

“Exactly. You’d make it look like it was a ghost or a vampire or werewolf. And to spice it all up you’d try to confuse the shit out of us.“

“What makes you think it’s someone they all had to do with, though?“ Carly chimed in. “Could as well be a nobody none of them knew.“

“Call it a gut feeling. Look, if it doesn't check out, we try something else“

“Alright, you and Cas got this. Sam and I will try and find the Grinch,“ Carly decided. 

Her and Sam left pretty soon after that, leaving me behind with Cas. I didn't even know where to start looking, so I began with typing in random ideas into the search engine. And found nothing. After I treated myself to a little break with lunch leftovers and beer, then read the local newspaper and had a shower, I just couldn't stand the silence anymore. 

“What’re you still doing here if you’re not helping me find something?“ I asked when I came out of the bathroom and Cas was still sitting in his new favorite spot on the couch. 

He looked up from a book. “You want me to leave.“

“No, I don’t want you—,“ I started, then sighed and ran a hand through my damp hair. “Whatever“

I thought maybe I’d try and find out if the victims were all with the same bank or maybe all went to the same gym or something like that. So I started to check out places, using my fake FBI skills to hack into their lousy systems and check names on their customer folders. Some of them used the same credit card provider, some had the same bank, some even lived in the same street. There were many overlaps in their personal life, just none that involved all victims. So I searched on. 

“Found anything?“ Cas asked out of the blue, and when I turned I found him suddenly seated right next to me. His hand was on the backrest of my chair and while he always sat a little too close to me, I was taken by surprise this time. He’d kept his distance for so long, I couldn't help but be hyper aware of it now. 

“Uh, no,“ I said, clearing my throat. “Not yet.“

“What’s that?“ Cas asked, pointing at the screen and leaning in a little. “The school’s website?“

“Uh, yeah. They all went to the same school.“

“Which isn't surprising in small towns like this, is it?“

“No,“ I gave. When I managed to take my eyes off him and back to the screen I continued scrolling through the photo archive. I had to go through tons of pictures of proms and sport events and other shit until I finally reached about the year victims one to four went to this school. 

“Wait,“ Cas said at one point, “What does it say below this one?“

“Uh,“ I zoomed in. “Debating Club 2003. Emilia Johnson, Tracey Jenkins, Martha Jakobs, Karen Mulligan, and Team Captain Catherine Schwartz. I’ll be damned.“

“You think Catherine has something to do with this, Dean?“

“Well, she’s the only one in this picture who’s still alive. At least I think so. Let’s find out.“ I typed in her name and instantly found her. She worked at that same school, as a counselor. “Got her. We should go chat her up, right?“

“Yes,“ Cas said, a tiny smile creeping into his face. He stood and readjusted his coat, his hand grazing my shoulder when passing behind me, in a way that made me full-body-follow him with my look. 

I stood up, too, and grabbed my jacket, but before we walked out the door something made me stop Cas at his wrist. “Wait,“ I said out of nowhere, not entirely sure what he was supposed to wait for. 

He turned and frowned. “What is it?“

“Uhm,“ I made, only just now realizing that I still had a death grip on his wrist. I let go. Cleared my throat awkwardly. I didn't have any idea what I’d meant to say. Thank you? No, that’d be ridiculous. Are you okay? No, too melodramatic. I could always just cover it with a joke, but right when I needed a stupid comment I couldn't come up with one. So I just smiled at him. Stupidly and for no reason.  
“Never mind,“ was the cherry on top. Then I waltzed out into the cold but sunny parking lot and inwardly cursed myself so much Cas probably would have seen it in my face, if he wasn't walking behind me. 

We drove the short way to the local Highschool in silence, and when I was about to get out of the car, we paused again. This time it was Cas who stopped me. 

“What?“

“Dean, I…,“ he started, then removed his hand from my arm and looked away. “I know.“

During the sheer endless amount of time I tried to make sense of those two words my face went through several stages. From frowning to knitting my brows to something that probably looked horribly unattractive. In the end, it went back to frowning. 

“Could you be a little more specific?“ I asked, trying hard to not sound bitchy. 

Cas seemed to pick up on that. “I meant I know what you wanted to say earlier.“

“Did you creep into my head again?“

“Dean. I told you I can’t read minds. I’ve already told you that multiple times.“

I snorted. “Yeah, sure. I’m pretty sure you’d find a way, though“

Cas’ face made something I call the Don’t Get Mad He’s Just A Stupid Human Face in which he pushes out his stubbled chin and presses his lips and closes his eyes for a moment. Possibly taking a calming breath. I wondered why everyone needed to take calming breaths around me all the time, and if I really was that irritating, but however, it didn't seem to work in Cas’ case.

“I mean, you keep interfering with my dreams,“ I made it even worse, “you even showed up in a couple of them. And whenever I wake up the first thing I see is you staring at me like a creep. You tell me if that’s okay“

“I only ever interfere when required, Dean,“ he growled, his voice an even rumbling noise like a car’s tires on a road, in contrast to his expression that was clearly ready to explode. 

“Yeah?“ I said, raising my voice. “And _who asked you to_?“

“I just don’t like seeing you in distress,“ he gave back just as loud. 

“What am I? A damsel? I don’t like _being_ in distress, but that doesn't give you the right to mojo me every time you please!“

“Oh, I’m sorry,“ he spat. “Do you want me to slap you awake next time and ask you first?“

“YEAH, MAYBE I WANT THAT“

“OKAY“

“OKAY“

Both of us stopped and looked at each other. Our breathing was going rapid and in unison and I wouldn't know whose expression to call angrier. Then, out of nowhere, stupid smiles built in our faces. 

“Let’s go talk to Catherine,“ I said and got out of the car. 

Cas followed right behind me into the ugly brick building that looked like just about any school I’d ever sat foot in. Most of the kids were already home, only a few nerds with cellos and piles of books were still walking the hallways. We asked around a little and eventually found Mrs Schwartz in a corridor, attaching crafted stars and other things to the ceiling. 

“Excuse me, Miss,“ I said as we approached the ladder she was on. 

She turned and looked right down at my FBI badge. “Oh. Hello, gentlemen.“ Her furry boots made funny noises as she climbed down the ladder and when I looked into her face up close I could still see the teenager on the picture. 

“Do you recognize these kids?“ I asked as I showed her the printed photo from the website. 

She took it in both hands and smiled. “Yeah. That used to be our debating club back when we were in Highschool.“

“Are you aware that everyone on this picture died recently?“

“Everyone but you,“ Cas added ominously. I shot him a look. 

“Uhm, yeah,“ she said, her face turning sad. “I heard. This is a small town, agents. Something like this doesn't go unnoticed. Did you find out who did it, yet?“

“Not yet. That’s why we’re here actually“

“You don’t think I did it, do you?“ she asked with a shocked face. 

“Yes,“ Cas said bluntly. 

“No,“ I corrected, holding up a hand and smiling, then shooting Cas a stern look. “No, of course not, Mrs Schwartz. We just have a few routine questions. When was the last time you saw any of them?“

“Well, uhm,“ she seemed to concentrate, “I’m not sure. But after we graduated we didn't have to do with each other much. I occasionally saw them in town, but that’s it.“

We asked her another few questions to try and figure her out, but all in all she didn't seem to be the lead I’d hoped her to be. She was no criminal mastermind, and no vampire or any other creature either, as far as I could tell. There were no grudges, no drama, no nothing. Nothing to go on. 

“I’d like to keep an eye on her, just in case,“ I told Cas on the way to the car. “But I doubt she’s who we’re looking for.“

Cas nodded, with yet another touch of my shoulder. I couldn't help but wonder what had changed. First I’d barely seen him for weeks. Then he spontaneously agreed to help with a case which was, at that point, still just a normal, unspectacular case Sam and I should have managed to handle without him. Since we were here he kept avoiding me, barely even looked at me, and the few times we actually talked to each other we kept ending up fighting. I didn't even know what we were fighting about. I didn't know why I got so angry. But now something was different. All of a sudden, he played nice. For no reason. And I wasn't sure I could handle that, either.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean winks at a waitress, Cas raises a brow, and Sam looks like somebody pooped in his shoe.

_* it’s easier for us to hide *_  
_________

You’re entire life you have that romantic fantasy that one day you’re going to meet the perfect person. You’d fall in love and have kids and a nice life together. You’re raised into it, your parents and other people telling you stories of how they met and television showing you exactly how love is supposed to work. As you get older the world gets more complicated and you learn that life doesn't work the way it does in movies and books. But even then a tiny little part of you still dreams of your own epic love story. 

I never had that kind of illusion. I was raised to be a hunter. Always on the road, always on the run, and always only enough time for brief hook-ups with random girls. It’s ironic how my dad’s devotion to the job grew from such a love story, epic in the truest sense of the word, and he still managed to raise Sam and me into a life with no place for something like that. And I believed in it, I truly did. Brainwashed and alienated from real relationships, I only ever cared about a quick fuck. 

I didn’t even know what else to do anymore. I didn't remember how to fall in love. Like the cute waitress walking up and down the diner, for instance. She was just my type, dark-haired and funny and she had that great smile about her that just made you want to smile, too. Normally, I would charm her so much she wouldn't know what hit her. I would meet up with her when her shift was over and then we’d fuck all night. And in the morning, I’d sneak out of her place and forget her as soon as I started my car. 

“Thank you,“ Cas said across from me, and when I looked up I saw said waitress smiling and refilling our coffee cups. 

I winked at her, but it didn't feel real. Wendy. Wendy was probably the nicest girl and I wished so badly I could just go back to my old self. The self I was before the winter. The one I was before I started to annoy everyone with the single sole wish of having Christmas this year. Before I started drinking too much and eating like I was starved, or not eating at all. Before I hung out in my room too much and watched TV all day. Before I locked myself in and wouldn't talk to anyone. Before I’d fucked it all up. 

“Are you alright?“ Cas asked.

“Hm?“ I cleared my throat, a lump building there. “Yeah, sure“

Cas raised a brow, something I’d never seen on him before. “What do we do next?“ he asked. 

A good question. I should be the expert, only that I had no clue. It wasn't like there was a handbook on how to do these kind of things, especially since this case wasn't making any sense. I remember that time when Cas had decided he wanted to become a hunter and followed me around all the time, watching my every move. It was nice to have someone believe you knew everything, but the truth is most of the times I make it up as I go. 

“I guess we wait for Sam and Car to find something,“ I suggested. 

“Where are they now?“

“Who knows with those two.“ I ran a hand over my face. 

“You think there’s something going on between them?“

“Well, I think I know how my brother looks when he’s got a crush, yes“

“But you’re not okay with it?“

I stopped pretending to watch the interesting interior of the diner and looked him right in the eyes. He was studying me. His eyes were fixed on me so hard it felt like a death grip. He leaned in and I couldn't help but back off a little, even though there was still a table between us. I don’t know what I was afraid of. I don’t know what I thought he was going to do. He was only looking at me and I felt so endangered my heart went wild. 

“Quit the Q&A, Cas,“ I said eventually, my voice almost normal. I was okay. I wasn't acting weird. In fact, I was acting so normal I even managed to order another plate of fries. 

“You’re stress-eating,“ was what Cas thought of that when it arrived and I dug right into it. 

I shot him another look. “I’m not“

“You’ve been eating more than your usual amount of food ever since we started to work on this case.“

“I haven’t,“ I said with a full mouth. “How d’you even know how much I eat?“

“Well. I’ve been watching you for years, Dean.“

I chocked. Then nodded, trying to keep it together. I literally had an angel watching over me. How nice. Knowing that he could make himself invisible, that piece of information was something I hadn't needed to learn about. I pictured him standing there in a corner when I lay in bed and watched horror flicks all night. Or watching me shower. Or hiding in my closet while I jerked off.  
“You know what? If you were any other person, and I mean _anyone_ , I’d tell you to back off right now. Very loudly. And angrily. Probably after punching you in the face.“

Cas cocked his head. “Did I say something wrong?“

“ _Yes_ , Cas,“ I said. “You can’t just go and tell people you’re watching them. In fact, you can’t just _do_ that. Period. It’s freaking creepy.“

“But it’s the truth.“

I almost wished he didn't talk to me again. All that head hacking and dream disturbing and now the watching part, it all had me jitter with uneasiness. What did he even do it for? Spy on me? I wasn't that interesting and I sure as hell didn't need a guardian angel pervert. 

I sighed. A failing attempt to calm down and summon all the patience I had. “ _Cas_ ,“ I growled, my voice cracking a little. “You need to stop doing that.“

Cas looked away, pouting. “You think I invaded your privacy again.“

“Well— _Yeah_. You can’t just watch me all the time. I’m not a TV show.“

“I didn’t watch you all the time, Dean,“ he claimed, his eyes back on me and his voice angry now. “By _watching_ I meant we’ve been friends for a long time and I know your eating habits by now.“

Oh. 

“You know, Dean,“ he continued more quietly, his eyes fixing the tabletop, “when I came with you and your brother to help with this case I really thought we could do a fresh start. I really thought we could be friends again.“

“We can“

He looked up. “How? How could we be friends when everything I do puts you off? I wish circumstances were different, but I can’t change the past.“

“Different, huh?“ I gave with a bitter smile. “If you wanted different, why did you react the way you did? And then you just pissed off without even talking to me.“

“Dean—“

“I get it, okay,“ I cut him off. “I get it. I screwed up. I shouldn't have tried to— I shouldn't have tried to make us something we’re not. It’s fine. But I thought after all these years we could at least work it out and get past that. Because compared to _everything_ — it was just a little mistake, Cas.“

A tiny tilt of his head and he made that horrible pitiful expression with his sad little eyes and his sad little mouth and his sad little frowning. “Dean,“ he aspirated, his hand suddenly settling on top of mine, “it wasn’t—“

“Guys,“ I heard my brother say and looked to find them strutting over to us. These two. Always with the tragic timing. 

“There you are,“ Sam said with an accusing tone I didn't understand. Him and Carly squeezed into our booth, Sam looking at me like I’d just started an apocalypse again. “We were looking everywhere for you, we’ve got news“

“Here’s an idea: call next time,“ I said.

Bitch face category You’re An Idiot. “I would have, if your phone weren’t dead. Anyway. There’s another body, we just got a call.“

Carly stopped staring at Cas long enough to add, “Sounded like a real piece of art, too.“ I didn't get why she was smirking, though. 

“We better find the Grinch soon,“ Sam went on.

“So that’s what we’re calling him now? Seriously?“ I threw in and was entirely ignored. 

“We should hurry, yes,“ Carly said, both of them barely giving Cas and me the chance to join their breathing breaks, if they made any. “I already got a hot tip where to find him.“

With that they synchronized and walked out, leaving me struggled to catch up, physically and mentally. I shot a look at Cas, also still sitting there, and I badly wanted to say something. But there was nothing I hadn't already said, so I cleared my throat after what must have been a solid minute of awkward eye contact and went after the others. 

____________

Our increasingly frequent visits at the morgue made us well-known there by now. We didn't even have to show our badges anymore. But when I looked at our latest victim, or what was left of him, I almost wished they had checked the badges and kicked us out because they suddenly miraculously figured out that they were fake. This one would replace faceless girl as the thing haunting me in my sleep. 

“I’m gonna puke,“ I stated, barely holding the fries inside my stomach. 

“So,“ Sam said, and this time even he pulled a face. “Missing arms and legs, missing eyes, missing teeth—“

“And,“ Carly chimed in, holding up the cloth covering the lower part of the body, “missing dick.“

“His eyelids are intact,“ Cas added helpfully. “No bite marks. What does it say in the report, Sam?“

“Well, uh,“ Sam gave, looking into it. “It doesn't say anything about a missing heart. Cause of death: severe blood loss.“

“Like we said, we gotta find the Grinch soon,“ Carly gave. Sam nodded.

“Yeah, I’m with you on that. But this isn’t his work, though, right? I mean, this is a whole new level of crazy“

“Maybe he upped his game,“ Sam suggested.

“From gunning down to Jeffrey Dahmer?“

Sam frowned. “Look, it doesn't matter. We find him first and then we figure this one out, alright?“

“This was clearly someone else’s doing, Sam,“ I said. “I can’t believe you can’t see that.“

“I see it, alright. But one step after the other.“

“Dean’s right,“ Carly piped up, putting a hand on my arm. She was a handsy one. “But Sam is, too. Let’s find the Grinch first, and then do the next step. He’s the only lead we got.“

“Fine,“ I agreed, but not without some reluctance. I didn't like it. I also didn't like how Sam didn't listen to me anymore and how Carly seemed to call all the shots now. But they were right. One step after another.

________________

“How do we know he’s here again?“ I asked as we walked up to the edge of the forest Carly was leading us into. 

“By doing my job,“ she answered without turning around. “You should try that some time. It’s really fulfilling.“

I scowled at her back, my mood somewhere between pissed and agreeing. I hadn't really given my best so far, which was probably because I was still stuck in the shit I refused to figure out. The talk with Cas, if you could call it that, had stirred up things I’d rather have left in the dark and unknown. I wished I would have left it alone in the first place. I wished I never would have switched on the lightbulb over what I’d been fine being blind to for years. 

We entered the forest. It was late evening and dark outside and my eyes drank in the wobbly path in front of me and the woods that enfolded it. The look of pale, moonlit snow on the ground and black trees standing tall against it, the wide sharp shadows they cast, it was a beautiful view. I heard owls calling and a quiet rattle in the underwoods, and the whistle of the wind through and in between tree trunks and stubborn leaves refusing to fall for the winter. The air was ice cold and damp and a thick layer of mist was creeping across the ground. The air smelled of nothing, and as we wandered on this place felt more and more like something out of a horror movie, the kind of place parents tell their kids not to go into, a blood-curdling place you’re warned not to explore under any circumstances. 

It was dark. We walked in between dark unmoving trees under the dark sky and Sam and Carly in front of me where nothing but dark figures moving further and further and into even darker regions of the forest. It felt sort of witchy here, like cold arctic air and the hot uncomfortable weight of misgiving. Like the eerie backdrop of the woods and the bright white sheen of snow and moonlight. 

And then roiling red and auburn light exploded to our right and a wave of scalding air brushed over us. We stopped. There was a fire some twenty feet away from us and as I looked closer I found a dark figure running towards us. 

“Sam!“ I shouted on instinct. I heard the metallic sound of Cas’ sword dropping into his palm and drew my gun. 

The figure started calling out, but I couldn't make out any words. It sounded like the howling of a wolf or the sick cheer of a mad man. The flames burned high up into the trees, sizzling and eating away their crowns and branches. 

As he reached us with crazy sounds and shouts, running fast as a wild animal, I pointed my gun at him, ready to shoot. His madly glinting eyes met mine and the grin in his distorted scarred face made a biting shiver run up my spine. He ran right into me and knocked me over, passed me like it was nothing, like I was nothing but an insignificant obstacle in his blind spot. 

I stumbled away from the harsh impact his bulgy body had on me and landed hard in the snow, on my back, feeling something throbbing and painful swelling inside my ribcage, like a white fire. I lost track of sound and the others and without knowing what was happening I felt my lungs burn, thrust fingernails into the snow and the frozen earth beneath it, and I tried not to choke on the flakes of ashes the blazing forest rained down on me. 

Distantly, I heard dull footsteps on the ground, my blurry vision only providing me with a smear of fast moving dark shapes against the fervid light of fire. I could hear my heartbeat, I could feel it in my ears. I rolled onto my side, trying to breathe away the stabbing pain inside me. Hot thick blood was dripping from the back of my head into my collar and only now I managed to ignore my lungs long enough to notice the throbbing pain in my skull. 

“ _Sam_ ,“ I called out through gritted teeth. It echoed from the endless number of trees and came back with nothing. I went on my hands and knees, swallowing the blood in my mouth and the bile in my throat. A dizzying nausea almost knocked me back down as I climbed on my feet, and after a few steadying breaths I started staggering in the direction I thought the others had gone. 

“Sam!“ I called again. No answer. I blinked away my cloudy vision and when what I saw looked almost normal again I realized I was walking towards the fire. Sizzling heat made my skin feel too tight and as my crooked body stopped I saw what appeared like Sam and Carly shouting and calling things to each other that I couldn't make out. I couldn't find Cas. 

I turned around in the opposite direction. “ _Cas_ ,“ I called. I was sure he would have gone after the guy and something in my stomach turned. I started a jog turning into running and even though my head felt like it’d been run over by a truck I didn't stop. 

When my lungs were about to give up, breathing in frozen air and ashes while I was stumbling and fighting my way across uneven forest ground and through powdery snow, I found him. He was wavering and didn't seem to be able to hold himself upright anymore. Across from him stood another figure, tall and broad-shouldered and he snarled like he wasn't human. 

“Cas!“ I called. 

Cas turned his head and his face was swollen and red with blood. “Dean,“ he gave.

Then a loud bang. A gun being fired. 

“CAS!“

He dropped to the ground. I thought he couldn't be dead. I thought he shouldn't even feel it. I thought he should be able to heal himself in the blink of an eye. I dropped onto my knees next to him. His eyes were closed and when I touched his stomach there was a warm pool of blood soaking his white shirt. 

“I got him,“ Carly shouted, running past me and after the man.

“Cas,“ I aspirated as I took his face in both my hands, smearing his own blood onto his cheek. “Cas, come on— come on, comeoncomeon“   
My breathing hiccupped. This couldn't be happening. He was an angel. A simple bullet couldn't kill him. A simple bullet couldn't do anything to him. Tears welled up in my eyes, sore from the icy air and the smoke of burning wood, and as I finally allowed myself to spill them they mixed with blood and sweat and burned just like the pain in my chest and head and like the trees behind me. 

“Dean,“ I heard. I opened my eyes again and found Cas looking back at me through half open lids.

“Cas,“ I almost whined, but smiled anyway. “You stupid son of a bitch. You could’ve gotten yourself killed. Why didn't you wait for me?“

“Well. I live, don’t I?“ He smiled. “Also, you were knocked out.“ 

I smiled back. “Well, apparently, so were you.“ I helped him sit up under coughing and gasping from both sides, and something in my deranged head had the stupid idea it’d be funny to think about how the Grinch hadn't managed to ruin my angel the way he ruined Christmas. He was a little ruined, though. Bloody and sweaty and dirty and wet and pain all over his face that he shouldn't be going through.

“Can’t you just heal yourself?“ I asked.

Cas looked up at me, holding his bleeding stomach. “No,“ he croaked. “My powers— they’re not functioning the way they should. They haven't for some days.“

“And you’re only just telling me this _now_?“

He threw me a look of unmasked exasperation. “I didn't think it was important.“

“When did you notice it?“

“Remember when I woke you up from that bad dream?“ He coughed blood. “I had to use my entire hand and focus immensely to do just a small thing like that.“

“And there I thought you just like feeling me up.“ I smirked, glad it was too dark to see any self-induced blushes creeping into my face. 

Cas smiled back that warm intriguing smile of his, then coughed again as another wave of blood welled up. “Dean,“ he said, his voice strained and tinted with pain. “There’s something I need to tell you.“

“You’re not giving me one of those death bed speeches now, are you?“

“No, Dean. I just—“

“Dean!“ Sam called. He was out of breath as he reached us, but seemed pleasantly unharmed otherwise. “You guys okay?“

I realized I still had my hands on Cas’ neck and was generally sitting far too close to him and I wondered how that might look through another person’s eyes. It was one of those moments where two inches and a little less blood and life-threatening injuries could make it a very different scene. 

“Yeah,“ I said, my voice cracking as I repositioned my hands around Cas’ trench coat after not so subtly wiping the tears off my face. 

Sam raised a brow at me. “I’ll uh— go and find Car.“

_____________

“Hold still, you baby“

“I’m trying“

“Well, try harder then“

I felt a cold sting on the back of my head, giving my best not to flinch away from it. I must have hit a rock or something, but Car said it didn't need any stitches. She cleaned my wound neatly until it was nothing but a distant throbbing I could ignore. My chest was something else. 

“Let me see that chest now,“ Carly said as she climbed off the bed from behind me. 

“It’s fine“

“Come on, get rid of that shirt. I won’t bite.“

I pulled off my shirt over my head and her eyes widened that tiny little bit as she saw all the black and blue across my skin. When I looked down breathing felt a bit harder than before. That fugly guy had hit me like a bull, running me over like a bowling pin. It was embarrassing. 

Car started inspecting my chest, her hands moving soft and cautious across my skin. Only when she pushed her thumbs in my ribs I couldn’t help but groan with pain. 

“You really are a baby,“ she said.

“You get body slammed by a maniac, let’s see how you feel,“ I snapped and held my ribs. Bruised ribs would make everything so much harder. This was a bitch. The ribs, not Car. Car was actually being really nice. After Sam had looked like someone pooped in his shoes by the thought of dealing with me, Car was the first to volunteer and handle me while I was the mean, cranky crybaby I always am whenever I get hurt. 

“How d’you feel?“ she asked. 

“Like I was run over by a mountain,“ I gave. 

She smiled at that. Her eyes were still on me, although she wasn't leaning over me anymore but kneeling in front of me, her hands still on their expedition of my colorfully decorated torso. 

“Cas is gonna be fine,“ she said out of nowhere after a while of silence. 

“I know,“ I said, even when I really wasn't sure. He’d said his mojo was dimmed, probably caused by whatever was going on in this crazy town, and I wondered what that even meant. He had a belly shot, it could go either way. Sam was with him in our room, we’d booked this one this morning so we’d all be able to sleep in our own beds, as though we’d have known we’d suddenly need a bed for Cas, too. The universe was funny like that. 

“I don’t feel like you know,“ Car said. 

“Yeah?“ I gave. My ribs were getting sensitive to her touch and I wondered if she only made it worse. 

“Yeah,“ she said, looking into my eyes. “I feel like you’re scared.“

“Of course I am. He’s my best friend.“

“Is he, though?“

I scowled. “Whatever idea you got into your head, you’re not gonna hook me up with Cas, okay?“

“Well, I was actually thinking about how you two fight all the time, but okay…“

“Friends fight“

“What are you fighting about then?“

I looked back at her, suddenly feeling naked and bare. She was waiting for an answer I didn't know where to find and something about the way her warm hand was on my arm and the way her green eyes stared at me like she would find out, no matter what I did, made me feel like this was a chance I needed to take. I couldn’t talk to Sam about any of this. I couldn’t talk to him about how all will had left me after that moment of pure embarrassment that I’d had with Cas. And because of Cas. And I couldn't tell Sam about why I’d locked myself in my room without eating or showering or doing anything at all. I couldn't tell him about how I felt like I’d destroyed the best thing I’d ever had, and how I’d tried to fix it by bringing us all together for Christmas and show how we could get past this.

So in the end, I did have that illusion. That stupid fantasy that I could have something I’ve secretly always wanted. 

“What if I said—,“ I started. “What if I said that I feel stupid?“

Car was still looking at me, but didn’t say a word. 

So I continued, the dam breaking, letting everything out I’d bottled up for what felt like forever. “With the life I live and— with the work I do… I pretty much always figured that that was all there was for me, you know?“ I cleared my throat, that traitorous lump building there again like it was trying to choke me.   
“And I thought,“ I said, “that I’d just go on that way and— and sooner or later I’d just go out the way that I lived.“

“And now?“ Car asked. 

“Now… well. Recent— events, they made me think that I might— I don’t know.“ I ran a hand over my face. “I don’t know. There’s things— there’s people. Feelings that I— that I wanna experience differently than I have before. Or maybe even for the first time.“

“You feel weak,“ she stated. I frowned, unsure of how she’d heard that out of all the stuttering. “Strength always feels better than weakness, Dean. I get it. You don’t wanna show you’re vulnerable, you’d rather fight than give in.“

“You gonna say something sappy like there’s strength in vulnerability now?“ I gave with a weak smirk. 

“No. I say you should just do whatever you think is best.“

__________________

It was two days until Christmas Eve and after a stupendously slow drive through town, after the night had brought three feet of extra snow and nobody seemed to bother clearing the roads, we found ourselves back at the motel. The Grinch had managed to escape, even when Car was way faster than she looked, but on the bright side of things he’d dropped his wallet. Apart from a few dollars worth of cash and an expired gift card from K-Mart — which they didn't even have in this town — it also contained his ID. On the photo he didn't look as Hunchback-of-Notre-Dame-ish as he did now, but I definitely recognized his bad haircut. His name was Dale. And he had a sister living nearby. 

Dana, his younger sister by three years, was far more talkative than anyone else we’d talked to before. She’d told us about Dale and about how a few months back he’d started changing. She said he’d always been troubled, a Highschool dropout with a solid if not impressive drug career and a history of alcohol abuse and violence. But then he started harming himself and Dana convinced him to get professional help from a psychiatrist. It only got worse, the harming going from cutting his arms to cutting his face, which made sense of why he looked like that now. 

So the next thing we did was checking out that shrink woman he went to. Dr. Elisabeth Norton, an elderly woman in expensive classy clothing and golden-framed delicate glasses on the tip of her nose. She seemed nice. She also didn't seem to be our bad guy. Dale had quit therapy with her after only two weeks because, as she claimed, he went to see some other therapist. She couldn't tell us any name or where their practice was, or any other helpful information for that matter. It was a bust. 

I had my second coffee of the day in Irish fashion and for the first time since we’d come here I felt somewhat motivated. I wasn't motivated to work this case, or do any research at all, I was only interested in finding the fugly piece of shit who’d knocked me over and was responsible for the constant pain I felt with every breath. But I did do research. Not on Dale or on where he was, not even his sister knew, but on what could possibly make a loser like Dale turn into a lunatic cutting into his own face and running around gunning people down and setting fire to innocent trees. 

“What about witches?“ Sam asked into the concentrated silence. 

Carly seemed to consider, but I didn't really feel it. Witches are wicked and sometimes even smart, apart from their constant desire to spread bodily fluids everywhere, but they were never smart enough to hide from us that well. I’d always thought witches were nothing but power-hungry, fame-whoring show-offs, who’d rather brag about all their mean achievements than keep themselves safe. They were delusional, manic even, and always thought they were invincible and better than everyone else. 

I looked over at Cas, settled on my bed for some reason, his favorite spot on the couch vacant. He was asleep and looked peaceful and his chin twitched now and then like he was dreaming about something interesting. I thought of what I’d said to him back in the diner yesterday. _I get it_. I didn't actually get it. I didn't get how I could read the signs so wrongly. I didn't get why I’d been so sure. I didn't get why he pushed me away that hard. I didn't get why I couldn’t, only once, get what I want. 

“I think I got something,“ Car said. Well, at least one of us did then. “Maere, or Mara. The Nightmare.“

“You telling me that there’s an original nightmare and it’s a person?“ I asked. 

“Well, a demon, to be precise. Or sometimes referred to as a spirit of some sorts. Maeres are nocturnal visitors that would sit on a person’s chest and suffocate them. It says here that, before it kills its victims, it first often drives them crazy for weeks and months even. They sneak in through keyholes and such, so plugging these openings could keep them away. It also says that giving it a gift could make them leave.“

“Great,“ I said. “Demon. We’ll just use the demon knife or an angel blade.“

“It won’t be that easy, Dean,“ Car gave back, throwing me a somewhat pitiful look. “It is a demon. But a demon without a vessel. It’s basically like a spirit. You’d just stab air.“

_Typical_ , I thought. Days on end without figuring anything out and five dead people later and we finally get a lead, but it turns out to be nothing but the beginning of even more research. We only had two days left until Christmas Eve and I still didn't intend to spend it here in a shabby stinking motel room with a brother who was constantly trying to talk me into having problems I didn't have, and a girl who was even worse with personal space than Cas ever was, and a currently comatose angel who didn't want me. Nothing went the way I’d planned. Solving this case anytime soon wasn't happening, Christmas sure wasn't going to happen either, and Cas and me definitely weren't going to ever happen. What was I supposed to do with that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cookies for who spots a line I stole from the show.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean wants pie, Cas wants a hat, and Sam rubs his eyes.

_* all these little land mines, all these little things one can read two ways *_  
__________

We’d spent the rest of the day researching on Nightmares, and when Sam’s decreasing ability to concentrate and Car’s need to eat something overpowered their newly established dictatorship rules I was finally allowed to make a break. Outside, the evening glow of the moon mirrored in the still uncleared streets and parking lots and it was quiet. Sam’s handyman skills had finally made the heater work, so at least we had it somewhat warm and cozy in here. 

“So I guess the Nightmare drove that Dale guy crazy then, right,“ Sam said over dinner consisting of bad Chinese takeaway noodles swimming in fat and things that used to be vegetables. “So, given that there were so many different ways of killing, it’s probably not just Dale.“

Carly nodded, stuffing her mouth with what looked like a piece of chicken. “Yeah, I mean,“ she said with her mouth full, “it definitely looks like it. Also, Nightmares don’t just haunt one victim at a time, it could sure be driving a number of people insane.“

“It makes sense, right?“ Sam gave and looked at me. His expression changed. “How’s Cas doing?“

I turned where I sat on the other bed. He was still comatose, that’s how he was doing. It’d been around 22 hours and he hadn't done much more than breathe. He looked like he was only sleeping, he looked peaceful. But he also looked lifeless, like all life had left his body, even when he wasn't dead. There was a bruising ache inside me, seeing him like this. This wasn't the person I knew, the angel who’d fought by my side through several ends of the world, who’d acted against everything he believed in just because I’d asked him to. The one who’d healed and saved me so many times I didn't even know how to ever pay him back. 

It seemed I’d forgotten how to read his face. It used to be our thing, the wordless staring at each other, having silent conversations nobody else knew how to decode. I used to read worlds into his eyes and whole stories into every little detail of his face. And now I only ever saw the lines on his forehead and the crinkles around his eyes and the unnoticeable draw of his lips and made up explanations for every little foreign head tilt he made. And I couldn't help but read into it what I didn't want to hear but still somehow needed to believe. I couldn't help but regret all the things I’d said to him, all the times I’d started a fight about nothing, all the times I’d pushed him only so I wouldn't get pushed first. 

I never meant to fall for him. And when I did I was buried underneath, I crashed into the blunt white fear that I broke something that could never be fixed again. I needed him. I’d always needed him. 

I felt Sam’s eyes on me, but I guess he picked up on how I really didn't want to answer that question. Instead I asked, “How do we kill that Nightmare dude?“

“Well,“ Car said, exchanging a look with Sam as I turned away from Cas’ unmoving figure and it was probably all over my face that I badly needed to change the subject to a more violent solution to the problems at hand. “Like I said, it’s something between demon and spirit, but that also means it can’t be killed like either of them. It doesn't have any remains to burn and you can’t exorcise something that doesn't possess anything, nor can you kill a discarnate being with physical weapons.“

“Awesome,“ I said sarcastically, “Now that we heard all the ways how not to kill it, how about we hear about solutions next“

“Well, only witches can summon them, otherwise it can only be seen by its victims,“ Sam chimed in. 

“But how do you _kill_ it?“ I asked again.

“I don’t know, Dean,“ Sam said, “but I think I can figure out a way to trap it. And once we did that we can think about how to kill it“

“Awesome,“ I gave back with an eye roll. It didn't satisfy me, it wasn't even close to what I wanted. I didn't need another monster slash demon ghost thingy to babysit until the Nerd Squad found a more permanent fix. “How do we get it trapped, though? We’re not witches“

“Well,“ Sam gave in that typical way of his where he’d look down and breathe like he was about to suggest something stupid. I was proved correct. “Since it can only be seen by its victims, I thought I’d try to lure it to me and—“

“You mean you wanna play bait?“ I cut him off.

“Uh yeah, I mean… that’s one way of putting it, I guess“

“ _Sam_ “

“Come on, Dean, I’ll be fine,“ he had the guts to argue, like I desperately needed to lose someone else over this crap sandwich of a case. 

“No. No way, Sammy.“

“Look. Somebody needs to look after Cas, right?“

“And that somebody has to be me?“ I asked.

Sam pulled that face of his he did whenever I said something absolutely absurd. “I won’t let Car be the bait, either.“

“ _Excuse you_ ,“ Car piped up, raising one unamused eyebrow, “Did you just dick-tate what I do and don't do because I’m a _woman_?“

“Uh“

“I might not be as tall as you are and I might prefer chicken and chocolate over a solid six pack, but I sure as hell got more ovaries than you got, which, just so you know, overtrump your teenie-weenie balls that all of you dick-blessed people are so proud of.“

“Look, Car,“ Sam wavered, “I didn't mean— I wasn't trying to say that uh… I’m just trying to keep you safe here.“

“Oh really?“ She crossed her arms, and I was very happy I wasn't Sam right now. “I would’ve never known that, if it weren’t for your wise words. Thanks for mansplaining it to me.“

“Uh,“ Sam made again. 

“We’re not doing this,“ I decided. 

“Oh come on, ovary up. It’s not like it’ll go right for the kill, right?“ Car shot back stubbornly. 

“Nobody’s gonna be bait here, alright,“ I gave, just as stubborn. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You said it comes in through keyholes and whatever and won’t be able to get through if you plug them, right? So we’re gonna do that, and we’re gonna put up every damn sigil we know against demons and ghosts and draw salt lines everywhere possible.“

“And then what?“ Sam asked. 

“And then we’re gonna sit it out until we found a way to trap or kill it.“

Neither of them argued against me, surprisingly enough, which was either because I miraculously managed to make them listen to me for a change or — and I didn’t like that idea — because they pitied me for some reason. But I didn't even care anymore, at least I got my way. 

We gathered our entire duct tape reserves and covered every keyhole, vent, crack, and slit we found. We drew salt lines around all four beds in both rooms and on window sills and doorways, and in addition to all that we put up every anti-demon sigil we knew and spray-painted demon traps on the floor and ceiling. Looking around, I was sure the cleaning crew would have one hell of a time once we’d check out. If we ever would. 

_______________

The evening was about as cold as they come and I was sitting outside the motel eating chicken straight out of the foil and having my goodnight drink straight out of the bottle. Of course it wasn't a good night. It was much warmer inside to this ungodly hour, what with it being winter and all, but that room had Cas in it. 

I licked the grease off my fingers, my stomach growling like I hadn't just devoured an entire bird, and I tried silencing it by washing it down with some whiskey. The nature of my life and the constant drill of reality had never been as easy to swallow. My life had never been anywhere near happy-go-lucky, but I was very good at making it worse. It wasn't enough for me to get through it alive and kill some bad guys in the process while saving people in need, no, I always seemed to try and make it complicated. By pushing away Sam whenever I didn't understand his ways or just because he’d figured me out. By pushing away strangers just because I didn't know them. And by pushing away Cas as hard as I could just because it hadn't played out the way I’d wanted it to. Really, all I ever did was push. 

I drew my phone because I was feeling self-destructive and needed to look at all the messages I’d sent Cas when he’d left after our disastrous encounter. I’d read them a thousand times already, as though I was hoping I’d suddenly find something new. But it was all the same, a desperate amount of typing his name and sorrys that meant nothing. I scrolled and scrolled and when I reached the last attempt, the last unanswered message, the last miserable _Cas_ , I got so angry I threw my phone all across the parking lot. 

I ran a hand over my face, when looking up finding Sam stumping through two feet worth of snow. He bent down and picked up my phone. I didn't know for what, it was probably ruined anyway, but it seemed to give him a nice brotherly conversation starter. 

“You okay?“ he asked as he reached me and took the place next to me on the bench, dropping the phone in my lap, its screen all broken and shattered. 

“Sure,“ I said after a sip from my bottle. 

He rubbed his eyes with index finger and thumb like I was one big disappointment. “You know what? I’m done.“

“What are you talking about?“

“About you and your attitude. I’m your brother, man. You don’t think I know what it means when you’re all— bitchy and got a temper that could blow up by somebody dropping a corn of rice? And not to mention your constant jokes and sarcasm. I’ve had it up to here with you.“

“If you know what it means, why d’you need me to comment it?“

“I don’t know. I thought getting Cas to come with us would fix things. Whatever’s going on.“

“What?“ I said, my bottle of whiskey mid-way to my mouth.

“I uh,“ Sam made stupidly and rubbed the back of his neck, “I sort of… talked him into joining us.“

“You what?“ I couldn't believe it. And there I was, all this time thinking about why Cas was here if not to rub into my face how much he didn't want me. Poring over what had changed, what had made him get the idea that we were in need of his help, what had made him show up and stay after weeks and weeks of being AWOL. 

“Yeah, uh—“

“So he doesn't even wanna be here?“ I cut him off. 

“Dean, he—“

“He what? Huh? He was forced to be around me? He hates every minute of it? What, Sam?“

“No, Dean. I think he—“

“Oh you’re thinking again, huh,“ I cut in again. “Did you think about what I wanted?“

“How would I know?“ Sam shot, raising his voice just as much. “You don’t tell me anything!“

“Because it’s none of your fucking business!“

“Oh yeah, great,“ he said a little more quietly, but not less irritated, clapping his hands, as though he was applauding me. “Because I’m just the annoying little brother who gives you a hard time. I’m the one who ruined your Christmas and dragged you here and then went and ruined your life by getting your best friend to come with us so you’d _finally_ sort it out.“

I didn’t appreciate the sarcasm. 

“Of course I’m _not_ the one,“ he continued, “who helped you carry in your stupid tree, or helped you buy everything you need for your stupid Christmas cookies, or put food outside your door when you acted like a child and locked yourself in your room to drown in self-pity.“

That silenced me for a moment. I hadn't known that. I guess I’d been a little selfish, and I wondered how Sam must have felt when every day he’d found that food untouched. I emptied my bottle and dropped it in the trashcan next to me. 

“If you hadn’t made Cas come with us, he wouldn't be dying right now,“ I still couldn't stop myself from saying. 

“He’s not— he’s not dying, Dean. Jesus. I can’t with you right now.“ He pushed back his hair with both hands and stood, turning to walk to his room. “Get some rest.“

____________________

It was long after midnight when I dragged myself inside. Surprisingly enough, I didn't even feel the coldness moving through every bone and muscle of my body like it was a sickness I’d caught from the quiet winter night itself. My hands were shaking and my fingers stiff when I fumbled the key into the door, and when I was finally inside, the warm heated air and the sound of Cas’ even breathing brushing past me, I closed the door quietly and dropped the keys on the table. My hand grazed his blood-stained trench coat I’d hung over the backrest of a chair to let it dry and my eyes roamed around in the dark to find his sleeping shape on the bed. 

As I started to undress myself I couldn't decide whether it was better that he was still out cold or if I’d rather have him awake. _Probably for the better_ , I thought, because I’d only find another random thing to pick a fight over. I’d take every word out of his mouth and turn it around and against him. Misinterpret every little detail of his face as though he was doing it on purpose. Make it complicated. 

I walked up to the side of the bed and studied his face. He was a little pale, as far as I could tell, the hint of moonlight coming in through the window the only thing allowing me to even see it. At least his facial wounds were healed, probably by what little spark of working grace he still had. For a moment, I just looked at him, drank in his face from his closed lids to the stubble on his chin, from his colorless cheeks to the absence of lines on his forehead. Worry took me over and I was sure I wouldn't be able to sleep if I didn't check his bandages again, so I pulled down the blanket covering him and carefully moved away the fabric of his shirt. The bandages seemed fine, but the stains of dried brown blood on his clothes bothered me for a reason I couldn't really put a finger on. 

I decided to get him out of his shirt. It was filthy and smelly and I didn't want my best friend to sleep in it. I wanted him to be comfortable as possible and a shirt covered in blood and forest dirt and sweat wasn't going to provide that. He moved a little when I pulled his arms out of it, so I tried to pull the fabric out from under him as slowly and undisturbing as I could so he wouldn't end up ripping the stitches. It took some time and an amount of patience I hadn't known I possessed, but when I finally did it I didn't waste a second to throw it straight into the trash. I’d thrown a lot of things to the wind that day, including my pride, but in the end I didn't have the heart to take his precious blue tie from him that he so stubbornly insisted on wearing the wrong side up. 

When I eventually lay down in my own bed I was in acute need of some rest, the flood of alcohol in my blood providing me with a level of drunk I hadn't known I could reach anymore and a numbness that even made me forget about my bruised ribs and the other constant pain in my head. But I couldn't get myself to close my eyes. They were so fixed on Cas I wasn't sure I was still blinking. 

A while went by, a while that stretched out in a kind of forever, and the grey, moonlit image of Cas was burnt into my sight so absolutely that I couldn't remember ever having seen anything else. I was sure if I closed my eyes now it would still be there. Worry. I was so worried. I didn't know then, but I know now that this kind of sleep-depraving, tiredness-overpowering worry had grown inside me because of the fact that Cas was an angel. He was supposed to be almost invincible. He was supposed to be the one person in my life that I didn't need to worry about. He was supposed to be a celestial being that you couldn't simply gun down like a dog. And yet here he was, appearing almost human and inheriting his now vulnerable body like he never had before. 

It’s when you realize that you were wrong about something, that somebody isn't this fierce godly being with powers you should be afraid of, it’s then that you finally get that there’s no reason to be scared.

_________________

The night drifted away and I woke up by dull and dusty rays of sun coming in through the window. I’d found some sleep after all, but I didn't feel rested, my head throbbing and a nasty taste on my tongue. My half-lidded eyes roamed about the room, absorbing unused furniture and the ceiling, unperturbed by the daylight, and untouched sigils on the floor and walls. An unmoved trench coat still hanging over that chair. And last they found Cas’ motionless body on the bed next to mine. I looked closer, the skin in his face glinting with a sheen of sweat pooling above his upper lip and also on his bare chest. He was still breathing. 

There was no sound outside, none that I could hear, and the room filled with the even rumbling of Cas’ breathing and the solid humming of the heater, like a car was driving on an easy flat road in a steadily calm pace. 

After deciding that Cas didn't need anyone to look after him for a little while, I got up to take a shower. The warm buzz of water calmed my strained muscles and my mind, and I found I could relax for the first time in what felt like ages. There was no one to push around, no one to argue with, there wasn't really much to do at all. We’d sit this one out for a bit, and I hoped Cas would be there for the endgame. 

When I came out of the bathroom there wasn't much on my mind but some sort of calmness and maybe even a little hope. I got dried and dressed and started the coffee maker to get at least a little awake before the day would start with whatever was to come. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and getting to celebrate it properly was something I’d given up on by now. There was no normal for me. No holidays, no break, no fun. Not even a nearly healthy relationship to anyone I hadn't screwed up during the past couple of weeks. 

“Dean?“ 

I turned, steaming coffee mug in hand, and a rush of pure excitement thundered through me. “Cas?“

I hurried over to him, the coffee forgotten and abandoned, my eyes jumping up and down and back and forth, desperate to find any hints on how he was. He tried sitting up, but was held down by my hands on his shoulders, and only when I finished my clumsy examinations I managed to speak again. 

“How d’you feel?“

“Well,“ he gave, “I’ve been better.“

“Let me check that wound,“ I said. I sat down on the bed and picked at the bandages. They weren’t bloody, which was a good sign. But when I looked at what was beneath them I couldn't believe my own eyes. A careful hand reached out and I couldn't help but touch the skin, which made Cas’ stomach twitch a little. 

“What is it, Dean?“

I looked up. “There’s nothing there. It’s all healed, Cas.“

“How long have I been sleeping?“

“Forever,“ I answered. “How’s that possible, though? I thought your mojo isn't working?“

Cas sat up then, me helping him pull himself upright, and when he ran his own hands across his skin he said, “It is working. It’s just not working at full power.“

“Thank god,“ I gave, releasing a breath I hadn't known I had been holding. 

Cas fixed my eyes with his and there was that odd something in them again. He reached out his hand and settled it on my chest. “Let me try and—“

“No!“ I shot, stopping his hand with mine. “No, Cas. You keep your— you keep it to get well again, alright?“

We sat there for another while, staring at each other like our eyes could talk, even when I didn't get what we were saying. At some point, it suddenly hit me that I was still holding his hand and I snapped out of it and dropped it like it was poisonous. I cleared my throat awkwardly. 

“I uh,“ I gave, turning away and standing, “I’ll try and find you something to wear.“ And that’s what I did, rummaging in my duffel for anything remotely fresh and feeling the sting of his constant stare in the back of my neck. 

When I found some old grey henley and a pair of worn-out black jeans I turned around again. “Here uh— wear these.“

Cas’ face drew some lines as he slowly got onto his feet and I was about to rush back to him to steady his frame. But then he just went and opened his belt, unzipped his pants and dropped them on the floor without a care in the world, that stupid old tie of his still dangling from his neck. 

I couldn't get myself to stop staring, some sort of paralysis having taken over my body that made me unable to look away, but as he stuck his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers I awoke from it like I was struck by lightning. 

“Nonononono,“ I hurried. “You wanna leave these on, Cas. Just uh— just get into the clothes I gave you?“ I couldn't help but make it sound like a question, a suggestion at best, a, for some reason desperate, attempt to avoid under any circumstances that there’d be a buck naked angel standing in the middle of my room as though it was the most normal thing in the universe. Luckily, he did as I’d asked and got dressed, and I was straight back to stressed-out and tense again. I’d never felt so unready for a day. 

_________________

It was afternoon when Cas and I went to town to pick up some food and other stuff. Sam and Car were still at the motel, assumably researching, and knowing my brother he actually was. I was on babysitting duty, so I was off the hook concerning that department. Lucky for me, if I’d seen one more word I didn't know the meaning of or one more explicitly detailed drawing of a Nightmare sitting on someone without being allowed to crack a joke about it, I’m sure I would have just put an end to it all and finished myself off. 

It was actually pretty nice being outside in the fresh cool air while the sun was beaming today, apart from the fact that Cas made me walk the whole way because he wanted to stretch his legs. So, good friend that I was, I’d packed us both into several layers of clothes and put a pair of spare boots on Cas’ feet and a nice warm jacket around him and we were ready to stomp through winter wonderland. It’d been over a day since the last snow had fallen and there was still no one who felt responsible for clearing the roads and sidewalks. 

So we fought our way on through boat-loads of glittering snow, our pants already covered in it from ankles to knees, our hands in our jacket pockets because I hadn't brought any gloves, and our eyes focussing on the unexplored path in front of us. Cas looked weird. Not weird like something was wrong with him or anything, but weird because I’d barely ever seen him in a different set of clothing. Last time I had was when he was a fresh-baked human being, and a really bad one at that, and casually told me the story about how he’d had sex with April. Maybe that’s why I hadn't paid much attention to his attire back then. 

But now, now it kind of was the only thing I could think about. He looked sort of small in my clothes, he looked horribly human and vulnerable. He also looked horribly attractive. My black jeans fit tighter around his thighs than they did around me and the dark-green jacket did something to his skin tone. And he walked in a different way. Maybe it were the shoes, maybe the whole lack of grace thing, I don’t know, but something in the way he moved made him appear like the boy next door you keep running into at night when you sneak out to make bad decisions. It was a stupid thought and I couldn't believe I kept staring at him or that he didn't even seem to notice that I did. Or perhaps he just didn't mind. 

We crossed what seemed to be the main road through the town center, a bakery on the other side of the street that looked kind of nice, and I was just thinking about how we should get some pie and other things there when Cas smiled. It hit me then that I still hadn't stopped watching him and that he was, in fact, smiling at _me_. 

“What?“ Cas asked through his smile. 

“Uh,“ I made and jerked my head, as though there was no other way to make me look away but to forcefully shake myself out of it. I chuckled, awfully embarrassed, then cleared my throat and said, “Nothing.“

Cas rubbed his hands together, another thing I’d never seen him do before, but I couldn’t even appreciate how many new things I was learning about him when I knew that he shouldn't feel cold. In fact, he should be standing here in his stupid suit and trench coat and not even blush from the cold. 

“I uh— I thought we could hit the bakery for some pie,“ I said, looking past his shoulder and into the shop’s window. But I didn't say anything else as I saw what was inside. I took some steps past Cas and towards the building only to find that there was no one in there. It was a work day and the middle of the day, there should at least be staff in there. But that wasn't all, apart from the lack of people, some chairs had been knocked over and a broken vase was spilling water all across the floor and the walls were decorated with what looked like raw dough and different types of cake, like somebody had thrown them across the room. And on top of that there was icing on the glass of the showcase spilling out in bright pink letters the word SUGARKILLER. 

“Well, that’s perfectly normal,“ I said and looked to my left to find Cas standing there and taking in the scene. He only frowned, but I could tell that he was just as confused as I was. 

We walked on then, now with a slight change in what we paid attention to, but at first we couldn't find anything else unusual. As we came further we finally heard voices and soon found people around a corner, chatting away and laughing like this town wasn't completely snowed in and we hadn't just found the crime scene of a massive cake massacre which, apparently, nobody cared about. 

We went into a supermarket, relieving our faces and ears from the cold sting reddening and numbing them, and made our way between half-empty shelves and past a sold-out meat counter — which I thought was a little weird. At some point, I realized I’d lost Cas and when I found him, in my one hand a basket packed with beef jerky, ham, and some chicken and a six pack of beer under my arm, he was standing in a clothing kind of section, eyeballing a blue woolen hat. 

I looked at him, looked at the hat. “You want this?“

He looked up at me as though startled. “No,“ he claimed, touching the wool and running his thumb over it. 

“Uh-huh,“ I made with a raised eyebrow, then grabbed the thing and threw it in my basket. 

Back outside, I tossed it in his hands, beckoning him to put it on. He looked a little uncertain, as though he didn’t know how to do it, but when he finally had it on his head I thought it looked pretty good on him. 

“Dean,“ he said, “you didn’t have to buy this for me.“

“Yeah, well. Merry Christmas, Cas,“ I gave back, smiled, then started walking again. I sure as hell didn’t want him to feel cold, or freeze off his dorky ears, and I knew he wasn’t as used to being cold as I was, so it was the least I could do. If Sam were here, he would do that thing now where he smirked and called me a mother hen, so I was glad he wasn’t. 

“Dean!“ I heard from behind, and when I turned I found Sam and Carly jogging up to us. I must have summoned him or something. Like Bloody Mary only with mean thoughts instead of saying his name into a mirror three times. Or maybe it was just his great timing again, ruining every little moment I had with Cas before it even started. 

“What are you guys doing here?“ I asked.

“Well, you know, we just thought—,“ Sam started.

“We got bored,“ Car cut him off. 

As we went on to see if we could find a diner or a café we could warm up in the wind picked up and the sun hid behind clouds, painting everything in darker shades now and throwing shadows everywhere. It was like the bad entry into the ill-omened scene of a movie where a huge spaceship was about to fly over the city or a meteor was going to end all life on earth. Nothing like that happened of course, but as we moved on past snow-covered cars and people just sitting there on the side of the road staring into space, I had a feeling that things would get even weirder than the bakery. I really just wanted some pie, but there was a woman holding something furry some feet away. It seemed to be a cat. It was definitely dead. It was a freaking frozen dead cat. 

We stopped. I exchanged a look with my brother, uneasiness written all over his face. Carly couldn't stop staring at the dead cat and the woman petting it on and on and on, and some guy walked past us, shooting me a look I couldn't describe as anything else but fucking strange. When he was several feet past us, my eyes still following him, I noticed he was holding a shovel covered in dirt, and I wondered if he planned to bury something or dig something up. Neither idea was particularly comforting. 

“Beware!“ someone called out somewhere behind me, and I turned again, my brain having trouble taking in all the weird at once. “Beware!“ he called again, a half-naked guy in only his underwear and socks, moving like he was dancing and throwing up snow like confetti. “Doubt thou the stars are fire! The S-T-A-R!“ he spelled.

“Is that Shakespeare?“ I asked. 

Sam frowned at me like I’d just destroyed his entire belief system, then turned back to the man running down the street after having tripped and fallen into the thick cushion of snow.   
Now, I could be offended by the fact that Sam still seemed to think I’d never even touched a book, or I could fall in love with Carly because she threw me that sincerely impressed look, but my brain felt too damaged for either possibility by having witnessed about 500% more than the recommended daily dose of gaga. And the day wasn't even over yet.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean freezes his nuts off, Cas spills ketchup, and Sam flirts.

_* you say there’s so much you don’t know *_  
____________

After our adventurous stroll through crazy town and after we’d made sure nobody was killing or hurting anyone, we decided it was best to go back to the motel. Sam and Carly spent their time with whatever research they were working on, while Cas and I were doing absolutely nothing. I liked this new arrangement. I could sit around and eat all day while pretending to look after Cas, while the others did the boring stuff. Since he was now more human than angel and seemed to still recover from his injuries, I had to feed him and things like that, sure, but that wasn't too hard. 

Cas would sit on the couch and read, and it kind of felt like before but at the same time it didn’t, because then I wouldn't start poring over all the things I wanted different but just walk over to him and make him eat a sandwich. It was easy and casual and for a moment it felt like we were back. Just two friends hanging out and breathing the same air. 

By the time the afternoon was about to turn into evening, though, my newly developed laziness was interrupted when Sam and Carly stormed our room with news. Of course it was right the moment I was helping Cas out of his shirt, because he’d spilled ketchup and somehow managed to entangle himself in the fabric, which might have looked a little strange. 

“Uh,“ Sam made mid-sentence. 

“Uh,“ I copied. I looked at Cas’ exposed chest right in front of me, looked back at Sam, looked to the ground. 

“Dean,“ I heard Cas’ muffled voice from inside the Henley Bermuda Triangle and remembered I was supposed to unstick him. I quickly pulled it off him, showed it to Sam like he could possibly see why I’d done that, then found a very interesting spot on the ceiling. 

“Okay, uh,“ Sam said with a little shake of his grimacing head. “Police called us. They found a body.“

“Another one?“ I whined. This town had a serious murder problem. I wasn't sure what to do with that, maybe, I thought, we should just go and arrest everyone, since it seemed to be spreading like a sickness. Just to be safe.

I went and proceeded the maddening task of finding yet another fresh thing for Cas to wear, which proved impossible, so he had to wear a sweater I’d already worn. He didn't seem to really mind, but I kind of minded a lot. 

Half an hour later, we stood deep in snow somewhere approximately next to the highway leading in and out town, looking at the spot where they’d found the body. My jeans were soaked with melting snow and I couldn't wait to get back inside since Cas was wearing all my warmest clothes. The beginning dusk painted the sky orange in an amazing sunset and I might have stopped a moment to appreciate it, if it weren't for the white frozen body in front of me. 

“Serves him right,“ I said, somewhat satisfied with myself. 

“You sure it’s Dale?“ Sam asked, since he hadn't had the kind of close-up look at him I’d had. 

“Yeah, I’m sure,“ I said. “Also, look over there. Look familiar to you?“

I was gesturing over at Dana, the only one watching I could spot, standing near the scene and wiping tears off her face with a tissue. This was weird, though. Even for this case. It’s not like Dale didn't deserve it, but I would have expected him to be found dead in his bed or something, since that’s the Nightmare’s way of doing things. But either way, we had one killer less on the loose. 

Sam and Carly went to talk to Dana, which left Cas and me with the few police officers ambling around like they were on their afternoon stroll. One of them was nibbling at a chicken leg while looking down at the body. Apparently, the gruesome image of Dale’s frozen face didn't spoil his appetite. 

“Funny, huh?“ an officer said as he stood next to us. 

“What?“

“I mean, we were looking for that guy,“ the officer said and chuckled, “and now he’s a popsicle.“

I frowned. I wasn't particularly sad Dale was dead, but I couldn't see anything funny about it. “Did you guys find any evidence?“

“Huh?“ the officer made. “Nah. Can’t find our forensic team.“

“What?“

“Ah, they’ll turn up eventually.“

“Do you at least know what killed him?“ I asked, getting annoyed. What was wrong with that guy?

“Obviously he froze to death,“ the guy said, gesturing towards the body in the snow with a smirk that was kind of unsettling. 

Cas and I walked over to Dale, both of us squatting down on either side of his body to have a closer look. There was nothing unusual about him, no wounds or any other sign of something supernatural going on. He looked like he simply fell asleep out here and never woke up.   
Since there was no one around who cared to examine the body and no one who even cared to do anything at all, I decided to just go for it and do my own inspection. Cas watched closely as I moved away Dale’s collar to look at his neck, then opened his mouth to look for fangs or anything stuck in his throat. I did some other examinations of his body and his scarred face, but didn't find anything there either. Last I pulled open his eyelids, finding his eyes glazed-over and sallow, like two grey unseeing marbles. I categorized that weird, but didn't have any idea what to do with it yet. 

The others came back from their talk with Dana, saying that she seemed confused and a little out of it, but I blamed that on her grieving. Carly stood next to Cas, smelling him like a sniffer dog.

“You smell like Dean.“

I was absolutely ready to ignore that comment and also about to freeze my butt off, while Carly appeared just fine in only her thin leather jacket and t-shirt, which you could probably file under her supposedly having Russian blood. Maybe that was a stereotype that didn't apply to everyone, but who was I to judge her clothing choices. Though, I wasn't the only one feeling cold, so we decided to hit the diner. That chicken-eating officer dude was making me hungry. 

_________________

“Eat your own damn fries,“ I snapped and slapped Cas’ hand away. 

“Yours taste better,“ he claimed, his voice and face as sincere as though he’d just spoken his deepest truth. 

“What are you talking about, man? They’re the exact same fries.“

“Then you sure wouldn't mind to switch yours with mine,“ he suggested more than asked, looking at me with his damn puppy eyes and new found devilish grin. 

“Fine,“ I said and switched with him. As I looked up I found the horrid image of my brother and his permanent accessory looking at me like we were the cutest item to ever cute and dared a desperate attempt to breathe through it. I don’t know why it bothered me, to be honest, but somehow I just didn't want them to think of us like that. Probably because we _weren’t_ like that. 

“Okay, guys,“ Carly said and smirked, “I’ma hit the bathroom for a second. Keep the public displays of affection at a minimum until I get back.“

I couldn't decide on whether to roll my eyes or scowl at her, so I kind of did a face that was somewhere in the middle and yet nowhere near as effective as either. 

“Don’t be away for too long,“ Sam said with a flirtatious ring to it that I’d never witnessed on him and made me want to puke, “Or I’ll come get you.“

Carly winked at him. “I bet.“

Sam smiled after her as she walked away and when he looked back at me he found my most exasperated expression ready for him to pick up. What a sap.

“Never gonna happen,“ I singsonged and a wide smile grew in my face when he glared at me. “You waited too long to make your move, man. And now you’re way up in her friend zone.“

“No, I’m not.“

“Dude,“ I said emphatically, “you’re the mayor of the friend zone.“

Sam made that face he did whenever he acted like I hadn't just insulted him. “Well, maybe I’m taking my time okay. I’m… you know… laying the groundwork. Every day I get a little bit closer to—“

“Sexual abstinence,“ I cut in. 

Cas chuckled. I looked over at him, sitting closer to me than he had to, which was probably one reason for Sam and Carly to assume that we were a bunch of lovey-dovey lovebirds now, while, actually, we were still those kind-of-friends with a cliff the size of Texas dividing us. 

“You got anything to say on the matter?“ I asked him. 

“Well,“ Cas said, chewing on my fries, “I just thought it’s funny that you’re giving advice on the topic of relationships, while you yourself are so incredibly…“

“Incredibly what?“ I growled. 

Cas looked at me, appearing like he was reconsidering what he was about to say. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what he’d actually meant to say when I heard what he landed on then. “Inapt,“ he finished.

Carly chose that moment to come back from the bathroom, which was a lucky coincidence for Cas, because I got distracted and forgot that I really wanted to smack him and then I kind of missed the window of opportunity for it. He was one to talk. He was probably the most inapt person I’d ever met, concerning a great deal of things. He was the one who was inapt enough to rather run off and go AWOL than to find some balls and explain to me what his fucking problem was. I wasn't a thirteen year old girl, I could have handled the truth. I could have handled him telling me that I was no more than some sort of brother to him, that he didn't feel the same way. I would have gotten over it eventually. But how was I supposed to get over being so appalling to him that he had to get as far away from me as possible and couldn't even answer his damn phone?

“Oh Christ,“ Carly said out of nowhere.

I looked up from picking at my food. “What?“

Her mouth formed a little O, as though she just realized she’d said that out loud, then she waved it off. “I just uh… I just realized your eyes are _awfully_ green.“

I raised a brow. I’d been looking down just now and it wasn't like she’d never seen them before. Also, I wasn't sure whether that was a compliment or not. “Thank you, I guess?“ 

“You’re welcome. Well. We should discuss our next steps, right?“

“Yeah. I was thinking, now that Dale’s out of the game, we should probably try and get to the root of the problem,“ said Sam. “Since we still don’t know how to kill a Nightmare, I thought we could maybe find someone who gets visited by it and try that giving it a gift thing to make it leave town.“

“And how do you plan to do that?“ I asked. 

“We thought,“ Carly answered in his place, and I was getting an idea on why those two hadn’t hooked up yet. Too much thinking, too little flirting and vertical tangoing. “We thought we should maybe search town to find one of its victims. I mean, they’re not particularly hard to find, right? We just look for the craziest person around.“

“And what d’you suggest we give to it? Did you find out about his special preferences?“ I asked, not without a tint of mockery in my tone. 

“No, we don’t know.“ 

“How about some lingerie?“ I joked, earning a perfectly synchronized bitch face from both of them. “Just kidding. Jesus. How about, say… a token of goodwill, like… like a rabbit’s foot? We still have one in the storage, right? And demons usually like those kinda things.“

Sam seemed to consider it, but Carly said, “Nah. I don’t think that’ll work. How does a Nightmare need good luck anyway? I mean, it’s a bodiless creature with the power to drive people crazy and feed on their insanity. It’s the luckiest thing around.“

“Alright,“ I gave. “How about… something radiating power? I’m sure we got something like that in the bunker.“ 

“Dean, no. We won’t make a demonic creature even more powerful,“ Sam said. 

“O-kay. How about a soul then? Everybody likes a soul, right?“

“We’re not giving it a soul,“ they said as though out of one mouth. 

“Alright, you know what?“ I snapped and clapped my hands together. “Let’s play another game. How about now I am the problem and _you’re_ the solution?“ They both scowled and I looked over at Cas for whatever confirmation I’d hoped to find there, but he was deeply focused on his food.   
“Whatever. I didn't like that idea anyway. I’d rather have it dead than just gone.“

Nobody said anything for a while, probably because none of them had any better ideas concerning a parting gift for a discarnate nightly visitor creep, so I turned back to my food. My stomach growled, something it did a lot these days. I wondered if Cas was right after all and I was really stress-eating, or if I’d somehow developed a new metabolism and just needed more nutrition to keep my body satisfied. I kept craving for meat, though, which I’d always had, but not like this. Maybe I’d just starved myself for too long.

“We should still try and find its victims most advanced, though,“ Sam said at some point. “Before another body drops. Also, they might know something we don’t.“ 

I looked at Cas again, not so much because I cared about his opinion on that but because the constant teaming up against me started to annoy me. No matter what I said it was shot down, and I was genuinely surprised they hadn’t gone behind my back and lured the Nightmare by playing bait. Why didn't they just work the case without me then, if they knew better anyway? 

Cas threw me a look of confusion, as though startled somebody could see him. “Well. I won’t be of much use. I don’t have my powers.“

“So?“ I gave back. “I never had any powers. Or Sam. Or Car.“ I looked back at the two across the table, wanting them to back me up, but Sam seemed caught up in pity and Carly only smiled in a way I couldn't really interpret. 

Cas smiled, too, and his I could interpret just fine. It was his Thank You Dean For Managing To Not Be A Dick For One Moment Smile. 

After we’d finished our dinner we made our way back to the car. The sun was down already, the evening glow of the night sky and street lamps laying a sort of blurriness over it all. Cas was walking through the snow next to me, his shoulder bumping against mine every now and then and his new hat shielding him from the cold. I was kind of proud he still wore it, even when I hadn't picked it for him but simply paid for it. But I’d done good, I thought. One little thing I’d done right. 

We were just reaching the car as we suddenly heard screams from inside a building. We stopped, all four pairs of eyes up and all ears listening. “HELP!“

I exchanged a look with my brother, silently agreeing that we should go in there and see what was going on. A sudden flash of protectiveness burned through me. I gave in to it. “Carly,“ I said as I turned, my blood filling with adrenaline. “Get Cas out of here.“ She just frowned at me, while Cas looked like I’d just stomped on his foot. “ _Now_!“

Sam and I ran into the building, while Carly hopefully dragged Cas off the scene and back to the safety of our room, and the screams of what sounded like a woman got louder and louder and increasingly pained. We followed them up into the second floor, some sort of doctor’s office by the looks of it, and found their source. 

Inside one of the treatment rooms, we found a woman tied to the chair and what must be the doctor, given that he was wearing a lab coat. He was leaning over her squealing form and cutting into her throat with a scalpel, blood spilling and running down her neck while her pained and panicked eyes shot to us. 

It was two of us and one of him, so he didn't stand a chance as we bowled him over and knocked him down. Sam untied the woman and brought her out, making sure she was okay, while I pinned the doctor face down to the floor with my knee and took some of the rope he’d used to fix his blood-stained hands behind his back. When Sam came back we thought it best to drive to the police station and hand the guy over to the authorities. 

Back outside, I stuffed him into the back bench of the Impala, but the thrill didn't seem to be over yet. Sam and I were about to get in the car as well when in the dull cone of light coming from a street lamp we noticed a dark figure kneeling over someone seemingly unconscious. A small metallic object glinted as it reflected the light from above and at a closer look I recognized those furry boots. I didn't want to leave Dr. Nutjob alone in my car, so Sam ran after her and stopped her right when she seemed to set what appeared to be a scalpel at that girl’s eye socket. 

I’d wonder how everyone seemed to have scalpels at the ready whenever convenient, but I was too busy processing that I’d screwed up. I’d labelled Catherine Schwartz as innocent, and harmless on top of that, but it seemed she’d been the eyelid stealing killer who’d brought us to Minnesota all along. How had I been that wrong?

I got into the car, mostly because it was just too cold to stand around outside and I’d rather be in a confined space with a nutcase than freeze off my balls. I waited for Sam to return. It turned out not to be as quickly as I’d hoped and when a good twenty minutes of listening to the doctor hum in the backseat passed, I realized I couldn't even call my brother, because I’d so stupidly broken my phone. 

Sam came back at some point, though. Alone. 

__________________

Driving up a deserted road to the police station, the evening maybe a little too quiet regarding recent events, I parked the Impala somewhere between the police cars that were scattered about the parking lot like somebody’d dropped them from the sky. Sam shouldered the door open and I shoved the doctor inside. Only to find the station completely empty. 

I’m sure I would have heard some crickets chirr, if it weren’t for the copier buzzing and squeaking like it was contacting its home planet. Definitely weird. There were no cakes on the walls or knocked over furniture, like in the bakery this afternoon, but it sure was suspicious that there was absolutely no one manning the police station. We put the doctor in one of the cells and took a look around. Even called out, but there wasn’t a soul to find. 

“Where is everyone?“ I asked. 

Sam had no answer either, and this whole thing started to freak me out. Everyone in this town seemed to lose their mind, some even got violent, and now we didn't even have the police to back us up in this. I should have known, I thought, when I’d noticed the officers’ strange behavior at the crime scene. It was bad enough we had several dangerous killers out there, but now more and more people seemed to be affected and/or go missing, and I just felt like we were losing whatever control we even had. This was a nightmare. Literally.

Now that we had one of those nut job zombies in our reach and captured, we thought we could as well try to get answers out of him. We asked him questions over questions, while Sam grew more and more frustrated and I got angrier and angrier by the minute. He didn't seem to remember all that much, he couldn't even tell us his full name. 

“Why did you cut her throat?“ I asked about his latest victim of just half an hour ago. “Were you gonna kill her?“

“Noooo,“ the doctor claimed with a creepy smile, the first coherent answer we got. “Blood. That I need.“

“Blood?“

“ _Blood_.“ He said, running all ten fingers of his hands down his face, smearing the woman’s blood in dark lines from his forehead down to his jaw, a wild grimace forming as he pulled at his skin.

“What for?“ I barked impatiently. 

The doctor grinned in a way that made him almost look flattered, if that made any sense. “Well. To drink it, of course.“

“So you’re a vampire.“

He laughed overly dramatic. “No such thing, pa-ching,“ he sang. “You see, first I just took blood samples,“ he explained in what seemed like a moment of clarity, his way of speaking still maddening, though. “But then I thought, _why_? A nice good cut will do just fine.“

“You’re a wacko,“ I stated and turned away, running my hand over my face. Something about that guy gave me the creeps. 

“Really?“ the doctor replied. “How can you tell? So many crazy around here, isn't that great? And all because of the star.“

I whirled around, remembering that Shakespeare quote. “What star?“

The doctor made his weird grimace again, then smiled. “I can’t tell you, of course. But the star gives us back our loved ones.“

“Back from where?“ Sam chimed in, something mildly horrified in his voice. 

“From the _dead_ ,“ the doctor said, making spirit fingers that, in any other situation, would have been hilarious, if it weren’t for the increasingly disturbing insanity infecting this town and the unsettling question about where it would peak. 

And then it hit me. The graveyard. The stirred dirt. The guy with the shovel in his hand. The woman with the dead cat. People dug out corpses. And crazy as they were, they didn't even realize that nobody gave anything back and that their loved ones were still perfectly dead. 

I dragged Sam back in the other room and told him about my revelation. Then, “Car said she dug out those graves, though. Remember? When we first met her?“

Sam squinted. “She never said that, Dean. She only said it’s not a ghost.“

Well, yeah, okay. He might be right. Maybe I was confusing things. Maybe I was just desperate to find someone to blame since, other than it usually went, we hadn't had any encounter with the bad guy in town yet. It was probably what had me so on edge and uneasy, the fact that I had no one to punch or shoot or stab, no one I could even scowl at. I was hunting an invisible creature I knew close to nothing about. 

My eyes drifted in thought. Outside, someone ran past the station with two burning torches in their hands, buck naked with his dick dangling between his legs. “This—,“ I started, turning back to Sam, my hands gesturing wildly, “This whole thing is starting to freak me out.“

“Look, Dean—“

“No, _you_ look,“ I cut him off, my voice shrill. “This whole town is getting crazier and crazier and we don’t do squat. They’re killing each other and they’re doing fuck knows with corpses they just casually dug up at the cemetery and— and they’re running around naked and— and— and— they’re setting fire. We don’t _do_ anything, Sam. We need to do something, for fuck’s sake.“

“You’re right,“ Sam declared and raised his hands like a white flag, silencing my scatterbrained ranting. “This whole thing is a massive clusterfuck. I’m summoning this thing. Now.“

“What— how?“

“I got everything I need in the car,“ he said and walked away. 

I wanted to argue with him, tell him to stop and think this through, but he’d caught me in a moment I’d kind of lost my cool. Maybe it was time to let him do his thing and pick up the pieces, if it failed, afterwards. It wasn't like I had any better idea.

__________________

It had failed. It had failed because no one showed. Sam blamed it on the fact that he wasn't a real witch and that the spell to summon a Nightmare probably needed a powerful one at that. He didn't blame it on the spell being wrong or maybe him having done it wrong. But hey, how would I know. 

While Sam went back to the motel, I’d decided to stay at the police station a little while longer to see if any police would turn up and to keep an eye on the doctor. It also gave me a great excuse to be alone for a bit. This whole case put me off in ways I couldn't even begin to describe and I’d rather spent Christmas Eve alone in an empty police office with the bottle of Jack I’d brought than out there in the wilderness with crazy people or, even worse, with people who didn't care that this night was important to me. 

Yes, I still couldn't quite name the reason why it was so important to me, but why did I have to? Why did I have to explain myself all the time? Why couldn't we just sit down for a moment and act like we’re people? All we ever did was running around and saving people, saving lives, while we didn't even have a real life. Our life was messy and bloody and a constant miserable spiral of trying not to die. So yes, I wanted something that didn't involve a hunt or a big bad on our heels or another apocalypse. I wanted something that made me happy, something rarely to be found in a hunter’s life. Because a hunter’s life usually isn't happy. Because either you find a way to be happy or you don’t. 

After a while, I grew tired of sitting around here and listening to the doctor’s rambling coming from the cells that started to give me a serious headache. I thought what the hell. He could stay here alone, after all he was just a man. I went outside and started walking. Sam had taken the car, but the motel wasn't far from here. The night was quiet and icy, my breath freezing into grey clouds in front of me as I walked down the road through the snow. I didn't encounter any other crazy people on my walk and thought maybe they’d moved the party somewhere else. 

The clouds above started raining thick flakes of snow, reaching the ground so slowly I almost got lost in watching them fall. There was no wind, no sound apart from me snuffling and the steady beat of my boots scrunching in the snow. The sky was pitch black, standing out to the bright white snow below, a contrast that almost made my eyes hurt. There was no one but me, no light but some street lamps and the dull glow of the moon behind the curtain of clouds. 

The silence and emptiness to it all started to get to me, get through to me, invading my thoughts like the cold of the winter night with its bony frozen fingers that clutched to me like a second skin. I grew a little paranoid. I kept hearing rattling in the bushes that wasn’t there, or thought to feel someone behind me. But when I turned my head there was no one there, not a soul in the streets but me. I still picked up a faster pace, almost jogged the second half of the way, almost fell over piles of snow that had frozen to solid icebergs, but caught myself every time. My breathing went fast and out of rhythm, but when I spotted the grey concrete block that was our motel I slowed down a little. Whatever I’d been running from.

When I reached our door I saw the lights were still on in Cas’ and my room and halted for a second. It wasn't that I didn't want to see him. Actually I wanted to see him so badly I barely managed to stand still. It was more that I knew we’d be moderately peaceful and yet still deeply divided somehow. It wasn't easy to be around him these days. I wished I could go back in time and undo all this, stop myself from screwing up what we’d had and just go back to what we used to be. 

The ultimate friends. War buddies, having fought together and saved each other and died for each other. The angel who’d rescued me from hell and the killer who never even thanked him for that. We’d been good. We’d been a nearly unbeatable team. In a world that wanted me to take on the role destiny had planned out for me and a life full of losses I’d found someone I could trust. And then I’d fucked it up. 

I took a deep breath and unlocked the door. Stopped a second later. Sam had a stupid grin plastered over his face. Carly’s was even more stupid. And Cas just smiled. The room was dipped in warm light, not coming from the ceiling lamp but from different colored light chains and, there in the corner by the window, an impressive Christmas tree made of cartons and beer cans and something that looked like hangers. There was tinsel and some cheap looking bows and plastic pearl chains hanging on it and it even got a star on top that suspiciously looked like one of those that Schwartz woman had attached in the Highschool hallways. It was perfect. 

“What’s going on?“ I asked, my voice too baffled to fully work.

“It’s Christmas Eve,“ Sam said and handed me a plastic cup of eggnog. 

“Yeah,“ I gave, still kind of shell-shocked, “I heard.“

“Well, we thought it’d be nice to do a little something tonight,“ Carly said. “It was Cas’ idea.“

I looked over at Cas. He was still wearing my dark sweater, his hair a little messy and his face doing something that awfully looked like embarrassment. 

“Thanks, guys,“ I said and smiled down into my drink. “This is great.“

Sam and Carly went over to the kitchenette and did whatever, I didn't really pay any attention to them, my eyes refocussing on Cas. We sat down on that dusty couch together and sipped at our eggnogs. The others made some noise, it sounded like they were preparing food or something, chatting and chuckling along easily. The room filled with the scent of cinnamon and apples and I couldn't believe I was about to get even luckier because that sure smelled like apple pie. 

“Thanks, Cas,“ I barely even whispered. I didn't dare to look up, probably because I felt terribly guilty for not even deserving this. I’d been a first-class asshole this whole time, bitching about, holding everyone up, giving all of them a hard time. Yes, I was hurt. Yes, I’d been in a bad place and maybe still was. But how was I anywhere near entitled to get this from the person I’d treated the worst?

I felt Cas’ hand on my shoulder, staying there for a moment, then slowly slipping down my arm and away. That’s when I finally dared looking. His eyes were fixing me, his entire body turned towards me like he had something to say. Like he needed to convey something and needed every muscle to prove it. Like there was something about to happen.

I badly wanted to kiss him. It was testament to my undying pride and unyielding insecurities that I didn’t, because every cell in my body seemed to drift towards him. Every part of me wanted to be close and closer, brush my lips against his jaw and then push them on his and just… _feel_ him. Feel him like I needed to make the same mistake all over again, although I’d never even come that far. Kiss him because I needed to. Kiss him because I needed to know how it feels. Kiss him just to feel connected for a little while. Kiss him because I was madly, indescribably, inexplicably in love with him. And because he was Cas and I damn well wanted to kiss him.

I smiled. And then didn’t.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean has a hangover, Cas uses his powers, and Sam lectures about unhealthy diets.

_* now I’m feeling so brand new *_  
________

The next morning, waking up was a brutal torment as I felt a distant but nastily loud throbbing in my head and shrill bright rays of sunlight were obviously trying to kill me. I hadn't known I could still do hangovers. I kept my eyes shut and tried to breathe away my headache, while a number of pictures of last night paraded through my mind. I smiled. Christmas Eve. There’d been apple pie and music and that ugly crafted Christmas tree that didn't even come close to mine back in the bunker but still had something memorable and charming about it. There’d also been a lot of booze. So much eggnog and whiskey, when we’d run out of eggnog, and then beer as everybody had gotten too tipsy to even stay upright. 

I smiled wider. It’d been a blast, and I was incredibly thankful for what they’d done. I rolled over, the soft sheets wrapped all around me and the warm air in the room a comfort to my every bone. I inhaled the air, still smelling like apples and cinnamon, and maybe even a little sweat, but I didn't care. Half my face hidden in my warm pillow, the pain ebbing away a little, I reached out and pulled the body next to me a bit closer that was so warm and smooth I just wanted to bury myself in it. My fingers settled on soft skin and felt a calm heartbeat underneath it that almost lulled me back into sleep. This was nice. A mellow body aligning with mine, sharing the rhythm of our heartbeats and breathing in the fresh scent of soap on the back of someone’s neck, just staying in that moment for a while longer, when you’re already awake but don’t want to start the day just yet. 

Wait.

In one fell swoop, I was upright and wide awake, my eyes as open as they could possibly be. They found a sleeping Cas there. In my bed. Sleeping. Right next to me. In _my_ bed. And I’d just cuddled up to him like a needy little cat looking for a warm place to nap. My hand was still on his bare chest, his arm wrapped around mine as though he wanted to keep it there forever. I was in a kind of awkward position, for all sorts of reasons, but I somehow managed to use my other hand to have a curious if not terrified peek under the sheets. 

We were both still wearing boxers, thank god, and for a moment I was relieved. But only until I realized that it didn't change the fact that I was in bed with a half naked Cas and couldn't remember how that’d happened and what the hell had happened after that. I vowed to never touch another drop of alcohol, even when I knew I wouldn't keep that promise. 

_God_ , I thought. What had I done? How had I done that? And how was Cas sleeping so peacefully, clinging to my arm and sweating on my palm and drooling into the pillow, while I was there having a mild nervous breakdown? He slept a lot these days, practically used every free minute to, and he always looked so young with his tousled bed hair and his relaxed face and twitching chin and the soft snoring and content sighs, while he was supposed to be that stone-old angel who’d once watched fish crawl out of water and had at some point reduced himself to watch me crawl out of bed every morning. It was weird to wake up and not have Cas’ eyes on me. 

I pulled my arm out of his hold, not carefully enough, though, as he sighed deeply and stretched his arms over his head, turning it into a full-body earthquake of a stretch that had me so focused on him that I had to force myself to look the other way so the whole thing wouldn't turn into an awkward boner situation. 

His eyes started to crack open then, lazily taking in the scene, as though he had to remember first which millennium he was residing in. 

“Dean?“ he gave, his voice deep and kind of hoarse and vibrating across my skin from where my hip was still against his side. That did something to me, that low gravelly timbre of it, the depth of his voice scratching along my nerve endings and bringing them to life like my head was underwater and I breathed in air for the first time after drowning. 

It was stupid. So stupid. And I couldn't help it, I couldn't fall back into this, I couldn't forget how inappropriate all this was and how Cas probably just didn't know that humans usually don’t share beds in a totally platonic way. So I did what I’d been doing my whole life and pushed. 

“ _Cas_ ,“ I said through gritted teeth. “What the hell are you doing in my bed?“

Cas frowned and answered nonchalantly, “This is my bed, Dean.“ 

I turned and found that, in fact, he was right, behind me my untouched bed obviously no one had slept in last night. “Fine. What the hell am I doing in your bed then?“

“Uhm,“ he made and rubbed his sleepy eyes, still lounging in the sheets like he couldn't care less and like I was being incredibly unreasonable. “I suppose you slept here.“

I ran a hand over my face, another desperate attempt to calm down that failed just as much as any of those before. “ _Why?_ “ I growled. 

“Dean,“ he said, his voice still so scratchy and irritatingly attractive I barely even managed not to slap it out of him. “Calm down. We only slept together.“

“ _Slept— ONLY? What?!_ “

“Maybe I phrased that ill-advisedly,“ he said after a moment of considering my facial expression, “We slept. Together in one bed. Not _with_ each other.“

I puffed out a breath through my nose, pressing my lips, then swallowed the rising hysteria. “Fine,“ I gave, not quite managing to keep that hysteria at bay, “Then I wanna know _how_ the fuck this happened. When the fuck, why the fuck, and _what the fucking fuck._ “

Cas raised a brow at me, languidly stretched again and sat up. He then told me the magical tale of how our drunk-ass selves of last night had bid our farewells to Sam and Carly after nobody’d managed to get out a full coherent sentence anymore and then stupid-mindedly fell into the same bed, my sorry ass too drunk and tired to even think about how I was hitting the wrong mark and just snoring off into booze-blessed dreamland without a care in the world. He particularly underlined how that wasn't his fault and how he’d been too tired to tell me to fuck off. 

I was a little less frantic and shaken then, but didn't lose my jumpy tendencies as Cas ambled out of bed and into the bathroom. Maybe I really should quit drinking. Fuck knows what else kind of funny ideas my birdbrained clouded booze-brain could have come up with, if I hadn't passed out as soon as my head had met the pillow. 

_____________________

It was still morning when all four of us were gathered in Sam’s and Carly’s room. Only vaguely I noticed the obscene tidiness of the room, lacking the ambience of laundry all over the floor and trash piles on every available surface, and the fact that Sam and Carly always seemed to move around in close proximity, as though there was an invisible orbit they both circled around each other in. I was still hung up on the whole waking up next to Cas ordeal, still watching him, and every step he made, like a hawk. 

With a little reluctance on my side, we’d agreed to call Rowena to get help with the spell to summon the Nightmare. Reluctance because I still didn't consider myself a member of her fan club as I still remembered that beast spell she’d cast on Cas that one time. But she was a weapon we needed to use, even I understood that. 

“Samuel,“ she said in her Scottish accent as Sam opened the door for her. “I came as quick as I could.“

She strutted over to the table and put down her bag, her long black dress moving in waves around her with every elegant move. She half-smiled over at me where I was leaned against a dresser with crossed arms and knitted brows, then spotted Cas in the other corner. 

“Oh,“ she made in delight, walking over to him. “The handsome angel boy! Hello, tweety-pie!“ She touched his cheek with her delicate hand, fixing his eyes intently, while Cas just smiled back. Politely and forced, not in a friendly way, I told myself. I didn't understand why everyone was so fascinated with him all of a sudden, and I certainly didn't like watching all the touching and silent flirting going on. 

“Alright, alright,“ I interrupted, not sure how to justify my stepping in when Rowena shot me a knowing look. 

“Well,“ she said, turning back to everyone else, “when I heard that you boys are dealing with an actual Nightmare I just couldn't resist. Haven’t seen those since the Plague years.“

“Wow, I pictured you so much older and less pretty!“ Carly piped up, making Rowena raise a brow at her. 

“And who do we have here?“ Rowena said, eying the new girl from top to bottom with a little less disdain in her eyes than I’d expected. “You must be Carleen.“

“It’s Carly.“

“Deary,“ she said and smiled her little smile, “I’m going to call you Carleen and you’re going to love it. Right?“

The women stared at each other, smiles in their faces that were a bit off, Rowena even frowned at one point in that sheer endless wordless contest they were having, then Carly touched her arm in an apparently peace-making gesture and it was over. The palpable tension in the air vanished and the time that seemed to have stopped before went on its usual way.

By the time Rowena had everything ready for the spell, after about an hour of preparing and making Cas help her and having Carly watch them and both of them touching and occupying him to no end, I was finally spared of that show and we could start with the whole shebang. We all watched as she lighted her bowl full of nasty stuff like blood and some indefinable goo and bones I didn't even want to know the origins of, Carly having linked arms with Cas for a reason I didn't want to know about either. 

It looked kind of cool, though, the whole creepy foreign words chanting and her eyes lighting up with a bright violet sheen, a green fire flaming from inside the bowl and then a bang. We all observed in anticipation, the room quiet now, nobody said anything and Rowena just frowned down into her bowl. Nothing happened. I thought maybe we just couldn't see it, what with the whole invisibility thing, but I wondered how we would know we trapped it then. 

“So?“ I asked into the silence at some point, getting a bitchy side look from Sam. 

Rowena turned to us. “Well. I’m afraid it didn’t work.“

“What? Why?“ I barked. 

“Something wrong with the spell?“ Carly asked. 

I didn’t even wait for the response. “Did you do it wrong?“

“No, _dear_ ,“ Rowena gave, a little irritated. “A drunk six-year-old could execute that magic. It wasn't the spell caster or the spell. It’s just that there is no Nightmare to be trapped.“

“What d’you mean?“ Sam asked. 

“Well, I can’t just summon a Nightmare from anywhere, it has to be in the area. So the fact that the spell didn't work means that there _is_ no Nightmare in the area.“

_That’s just great_ , I thought. There we’d had that whole rock-solid explanation for everything happening in this town and now we were back to square one. People out there were murdering and rampaging, you couldn't even go to shops anymore, because either they were sold out or you had to watch for projectiles flying around, like food or bottles, or in the worst cases actual bullets. I was sure it wasn't long until we’d have to barricade our rooms and hide out here, because this whole thing sure looked like this town was only one step away from becoming a war zone.

_________________

I hit the bar. Rowena had cast another spell in order to find out about the source of the spreading insanity, but the only thing she’d found out was that there was some sort of unusual presence in town. As if she couldn't be any more cryptic about it. So now we knew that we’d been wrong again, but still didn't know who or what to blame and ultimately kill. 

I’d just needed an out. A break from all this, a break from Sam’s flirting with Carly and Rowena’s flirting with Cas and Carly’s fascination with both Rowena and Cas. I felt like I was in some sort of love triangle, only that it was more than three people and I was being excluded. Nobody even paid me attention anymore, I wasn't even sure if anyone noticed I was gone. 

There were a lot of people in the bar, given that it was only afternoon and not the weekend, and I drowned in the constant blur of chatter and laughter and also inside my own drink. I looked around, taking in the mix of different people, everyone seemed to have fun. There was a couple in the corner, making out so passionately I almost wanted to go over there and tell them to get a room. A bunch of guys sat around a table, eating a meal consisting of nothing but steaks, but a pile of them. Some girls were drinking in another corner, leaning against the wooden wall and staring into space. 

I raised a brow. Those girls seemed pretty absent, I wasn't even sure they were still breathing because they stood so still they could as well be mannequins. The men at the table weren’t just eating, they practically devoured the meat, holding their steaks like finger food and stuffing their mouths like their time ran out. And that couple appeared to have that same problem, they were only a step away from biting pieces of flesh out of each other. 

In the corner of my eye I saw a group of people walking in my direction. I turned my head. Five of them stood right in front of me, all having various degrees of angry expressions on their faces. I wondered what I’d done wrong or if this party was some sort of private event I wasn't supposed to be at, but I didn't have time to figure it out as one of them just wordlessly took a swing at me. 

I dodged it, of course, slipping off my barstool and putting some distance between me and the group. “Guys—“ I couldn't finish, as all five of them started at me, punches and kicks coming at me so fast it felt kind of unreal. I landed hard on the floor, my bruised ribs screaming in pain. One of them suddenly sat on me, framing my torso with his thighs, another two of them stepping on my hands.

“Easy there,“ I gasped, “Why don’t you buy me dinner first?“ My smirk didn't seem to impress the guy too much, in fact he seemed to ignore me entirely. Instead his fist landed in my face, punching me over and over and over again until I had to blink away white spots in my vision, dizziness clouding my brain and a ringing in my ears that was loud enough to drown out the music. 

This guy was heavy as fuck and I wasn't really in a position to actually fight anyone, pinned down on the floor with nobody to help me. I gathered my last ounce of strength and somehow managed to turn my hip hard enough to hurl him off me. My knuckles scratched along the dirty floor as I pulled my hands out from under the shoes almost crushing them and jumped on my feet. Blood was dripping from my face, rivers of it running down my skin, and I inhaled sharply as I eyed the exit. 

I don’t quite remember how, but I managed a few swings at the remaining attackers and run out the door as soon as the path was clear, the empty uncaring looks on everyone else’s faces still burned into my retinas as a reminder that I’d been stupid to believe I could just go to a bar and drink in peace. This town had no peace, apparently. This town was crazy.

I somehow dragged myself back to the motel, leaving a trail of red spots in the snow. My ribs hurt like a mother, my arm wrapped around them like that would help anything. My face didn't even feel that bad, but I was sure it didn't look too pretty. I licked my split lip as I turned the doorknob, my heart still racing from the sudden attack.

“Dean?“ I heard as soon as I opened the door, Cas hurrying over to me like a scared chicken.

“It’s fine,“ I waved it off and gently moved him out of my way, stumbling over to my bed and falling down into it. My eyes closed, but I could feel him standing over me. It was like I had that secret superpower, I could always sense him before seeing him. 

“What happened?“ he asked.

“Ah well, you know,“ I gave, still too exhausted to open my eyes, “Hit a bar, had a drink, got a beating. Nothing unusual.“

I heard steps on the wooden floor, then another number of steps coming back, then I felt a damp towel on my face. I grabbed it and blindly threw it across the room, but only a second later I felt it back on my face. My eyes opened and found it on the floor, then found Cas sitting next to me, wiping the blood off my skin. 

“I knew you would do that,“ he simply said, a tiny smile creeping into his face. 

I sat up and pushed his hand and the towel away, rubbing my eyes. One of them was clearly bruising. I looked at Cas, worry written all over his face that I just couldn't handle right now, or didn't want to deal with maybe. “You look tired.“

“And you look terrible,“ he gave back. 

I looked away, out of the window, snow falling from the sky again. Not slowly and peacefully as it had the other night, this time it seemed to be a beginning snowstorm, the curtain of flakes already barreling down to earth like they wanted to hit something. 

My fingernails curled into the soft white towel and only now I realized I was holding one end of it. I was so tired of this whole thing, so tired of my stupidness getting in the way. I didn't know why I couldn't just pull it together and figure this case out, without having to sneak out for a drink, or making stupid comments, or getting frustrated over the smallest things just because this case wasn't easy and because it felt like we’d be stuck here for a little while longer. I didn't know why I wanted to get home so badly. 

Something was eating away at me, preying on my mind, something I couldn't put a finger on, let alone name. There was this constant swelling in my head, throbbing caused by something else than pain, a permanent scream somewhere inside me. Something wrong. 

I sighed and looked back at Cas, and before I knew it I had his hand in my face, a warm wave flowing through me, a hot glow forcing me to close my eyes. Only when I heard his gasp I dared to open them again, only then I realized what he’d done. 

“Cas,“ I said, a tint of accusation in my voice. “What are you doing?“

“I’m sorry. I didn't manage to heal all of it.“

“You shouldn't have healed me at all, you stupid idiot,“ I barked, knitting my brows in an anger that instantly vanished into nothing when I looked into his eyes. I got it then, I got that he wanted to feel useful, needed to feel like that. I’d known him for so long, of course I knew he defined himself by how much of a help he was. I’d only hoped that he knew by now that his powers weren’t what made him part of this family. 

He started wiping at my face again, my blood turning the towel red as he ran it across my forehead and along my temples and down my throat. I wanted to close my eyes again, feeling the warm fabric soothe my aching flesh, feeling him carefully move it over my split lip, but I couldn't stop staring at him. He was so close, only a few inches away, and while he gently treated my wounds his breath was brushing against my skin in a way that strangely made me feel brand new. 

Once more I found myself in that tormenting place again where all I could think about was how badly I wanted to kiss him. I told myself I shouldn’t. I told myself I couldn't even do it. I told myself I would just end up in the exact same place as weeks ago, when I’d just thrown everything to the wind and did it, only to kiss air instead of Cas and lose a friend instead of winning whatever I tried to win. I told myself I didn't have to give in to every little stupid impulse. That it’s possible to have bad ideas. 

I wished it didn't have to be like this, wanted it to be the way I tried not to picture it too often. I wanted us to be normal, just two normal people who could fall in love with each other. I wanted to ask him out on a date and talk about ourselves, talk about everything going on in our heads, talk the entire night. I wanted to be with him, wanted to learn all about him. I wanted to have some time with him without the constant danger to our lives, without any hunts and without any problems. I wanted to kiss him whenever I wanted, wherever I wanted, and without any doubts about that he wanted it too. 

I realized then that he wasn't cleaning my face anymore, that he’d stopped and was staring at me in that very odd way he’d developed lately. His eyes looked somewhat excited, hysterical even, blue pools of ancient knowledge wide open and fixing me like I was the only thing there was to know in the world. I tried to say something, no words crossing my mind but his name, but I couldn’t even say that, my lips only quivering as though they were trying to quake voice out of me. 

Only distantly I felt a hand in my neck, a thumb brushing against my jaw and my brain went offline. I only remember the blue of his eyes coming closer, his warm breath grazing more of my skin, my heart pounding so loud I feared he could hear it too, and my eyes unblinkingly staring at him without any thought in my mind.

Soft lips touched mine and for a moment I thought I’d pass out. But then the temporary deadness ebbed away and I finally closed my eyes and let happen what I’d wanted for so long but had never dared to anticipate. Cas was kissing me. 

____________________

We were all seated at the round table in Sam’s and Car’s room, trying to figure out yet another explanation for this town’s increasing violence. There was a tension in the air that was almost palpable, and not just because we were all out of ideas and desperate for a way to solve the problem. 

The demon traps sprayed on the floor were fading, the salt lines disrupted, duct tape was peeling off of all the cracks and openings we’d tried to cover. All that effort and work for nothing, a mean to protect ourselves from something that wasn’t even there, a reminder falling off the walls and being treated carelessly as we’d stopped chasing after false ideas.

Cas was sitting across from me, between Rowena and Carly, and I couldn't stop myself from looking up at him every once in a while. None of us had said a word since our kiss, the prickle of touch still ghosting over my lips as Sam had come in to fetch us. Thankfully, my bruised and swollen face had been distracting enough to keep him from questioning why we were sitting so close or why his hand was on my neck. I’d gotten a whole righteous Sam Speech then on how I was stupid and how I should start thinking before acting, but all I could think about was Cas. 

Sam had sent me off to get some stuff then, because apparently we “need“ salad with dinner, with the excuse that he had to keep Rowena and Carly from starting a bitch fight or something. So before I’d even gotten a chance to process what had just happened he’d rushed me out of there, because there hadn't been any other solution, which was of course unless I wanted to keep an eye on the girls instead, which, hell no, I didn’t. 

Now, everyone was discussing and arguing about the case, but I could hardly hear the conversation over the sound and distraction of my own pounding heartbeat. Cas didn't look anywhere near as shaken as I felt, he looked calm and certain, he looked entirely accepting of something that I was having a life crisis over. 

“Maybe it’s some sort of spell,“ Sam suggested, tearing me out of my train of thought. 

“If it is,“ Rowena said, “it’s none that I’ve ever encountered.“

“What uh,“ I piped up for the first time since we were here, probably only to distract myself from the frantic thinking going on in my head. “What if it’s like a sickness?“

Sam and Carly seemed to consider it, Rowena just raised a brow as though she knew exactly why I was so quiet this evening, and Cas looked at me like he’d just heard my voice for the very first time. 

“Wait,“ Carly said after some moments, “I just got an idea. I don’t know if any of you ever heard of it, but I read about something pretty similar in New Mexico once. They called it _La Mala Hora_. It translates to something like _the evil hour_. It was some sort of presence that drove people crazy, one after the other.“

Rowena seemed impressed. “Yes, I heard of that. According to the Grand Coven it was cast by an ancient witch, a spell so powerful no one ever found a way to break it. Legend says that at first it appears as a ball of black energy, constantly moving and changing its size and shape, and if you look at it, it will drive you insane and will slowly kill you.“

“Awesome,“ I said and looked over at Sam, who was making eyes at Carly again of course, gazing at her like he was thinking, _could you be more attractive_ , while I just thought, _could you be more geeky_.

“So let’s say it is this Mala Hora thing, how do we break that spell?“ Sam asked. 

“Did you not listen, Samuel?“ Rowena chided. “You cannot break it.“

“You can’t or just nobody did it yet?“ he shot back. 

Carly smiled at him. “Well, no one knows what it actually looks like or what exactly it is, though. It’s all just legends and stories. So how would we know if that’s really what’s going on here?“

“How about we just find ourselves the witch who cast it, then kill her. If the people go back to normal, problem solved,“ I suggested. 

“Not every spell breaks with the death of the witch, deary,“ Rowena lectured. “Especially this particular spell, it would last long after the caster’s death.“

I ran a hand over my face. “So we’re back to nothing.“

_____________________

I was taking a walk outside, the dark late evening sky above me filled with stars and no sound crossing through the air. I seemed to be entirely alone out here on the walkways through town, no other footsteps in the fresh layer of snow but the ones I was trailing behind me. 

I was a fucking mess, my brain feeling so completely disconnected from the rest of me it felt like it belonged to someone else. I wished I’d known this feeling was coming, this tyrant of a feeling that didn't leave me alone, that pushed and pulled at me constantly and crawled through my mind like a quiet susurrus. 

As I was walking through the dead silent streets the fact that I was absolutely alone with my thoughts and impossibly undistracted made it finally break all the way through my skin. Cas had kissed me. I had kissed Cas. This should be the moment where I could be happy. Where I could stop worrying about having screwed up. Where I could stop thinking about it as a mistake. The moment where I could be sure Cas felt the same way. Or I would, if I could for one fucking second stop thinking about that first time I’d tried to kiss him. 

There was a reason he hadn't let it happen back then, a reason that towered over everything else, an all-consuming doubt I couldn't strip off. It was something I couldn't look at, even less talk about, but also something I couldn't escape. Sure, taking a walk now gave me some time, but it only postponed the inescapable fact that I would have to face Cas at some point. 

I told myself over and over again that it would be fine, that I would be fine if Cas said it didn't mean anything, or would mask that fact by acting like nothing happened. But there was a need inside me, a craving so deep I couldn’t tell where it was coming from or how long it’d been there, that made it hard to see past it. I wasn't able to act like it hadn't happened, because it had and because I wanted it to. I wanted it to happen again. I wanted more. I wanted everything. But I wasn't sure if Cas could give that to me.

My eyes took in the large trees as I walked into some sort of park, dark giants standing unshakably along the gravel path, glancing down at me like I was just an insignificant observer. Wind whistled through their naked branches, blew thin swathes of powdery snow across the ground, sounding like a secret whisper creeping through this place. 

I walked on under the boulevard of torpid trees, the stars no longer visible through the thick ceiling of their crowns intertwining and mingling as though they were reaching out to one another. The park seemed mute, only hushed little sounds here and there, a noiseless quietude wrapping around me in the most comforting way. It was cloistered and secure, covert and secretive, veiled by whatever natural magic this night had covered it with.

The few tall lamps around seemed to get more and more dimmed the farther I walked in, obscured by mist and late dusky air wafting around their bulbs like they tried to hide them away from me. 

A dark blanket seemed to wrap around me, a grim presence unwinding and winding itself in whirls and waves of wind. I felt like I was walking into the exile I so badly needed right now, a place without time or responsibility, without anything I had to face or anything I had to do. It was somber and dead-silent in there, but also warm and nice. I couldn't stop looking at it, at whatever it was, that nothingness and darkness surrounding me and making me feel light-headed and light-hearted and light in every sense of the word. 

Sometimes you just want to go where it’s dark.

I walked and walked and walked, moving without stopping, and somehow without even noticing I reached the motel. It was late and cold and quiet, and when I entered my room I felt new in every way imaginable. Thoughtless and without worries or doubts, my mind washed clean of everything. 

Cas was already asleep as I slipped under the covers of my bed, a smile growing in my face by knowing that I would be fine and that nothing mattered anymore.

_________________

The diner seemed to be one of the few places still safe to go to as only the less advanced and rather harmless crazy people roamed that street and the small number of remaining sane people seemed to gather there as well. 

I slipped into the booth right next to Sam, earning a couple of confused looks from everyone, as though it was an unbreakable rule set in stone that I always needed to sit with Cas. I didn't care what they thought. I didn't want his arm and leg pressed up against me, I didn't want to feel every vibration caused by his deep voice whenever he said something that would one way or the other give Sam and Carly funny ideas. 

I was good with just eating my breakfast and telling my brother to shut up every time he tried to lecture me about how my diet was unhealthy. Just me and my food and damn all the criticism. I was fine. In fact, I felt better than I had in a long time, and that wasn't because some angel had kissed me but because I finally realized I didn't need him to. 

Back outside, we walked past a couple of people burying their hands deep in the snow, all squatting in the middle of the street in a circle like they were holding a ritualistic ceremony. I raised my brow as I watched their doings and their sparse clothing but didn't even bother to waste any thoughts to them. I was calm today, absolutely indifferent to my surroundings and my own little problems that suddenly seemed so unimportant. I didn't know what had changed, but I felt like I could just do whatever came to my mind and forget about what could stop me. Not in all the time we’d been here I’d had that feeling, not in all the time had I for a moment stopped poring over all the things that went wrong and just done something. Not in all the time since I’d thought it was a good idea to kiss my best friend.

Cas came walking next to me, his shoulder bumping into mine as he shot me a warm smile that I couldn’t do anything with. His blue eyes looked dull to me today, dim and cold, and every little line in his face seemed to mock me with ancient wisdom.

“Dude, personal space?“ I said. It was just out of habit, but it felt somewhat true.

Cas backed away a little, focussing his eyes back on the path in front of us, a narrow stomped down path in all the snow. It was weird how all that time I’d wanted nothing more than to get closer to him, to be with him in a whole new way, and now that something had happened that might get us in that direction, that could cure my mind of its permanent doubts, now I just wasn't sure I wanted it anymore. Or why.

Some part of me still wanted to kiss him again, to feel his muscles quake under my touch, to do more than just that chaste brief spectacle of a kiss. The other parts of me, though, wanted to get as far away from him as possible. Not because I was scared of being hurt or because I feared it would all go to shit and end our friendship forever, but because I couldn't seem to stop myself from thinking about more violent ways of touching. 

It’d started this morning after getting up. Cas had tried to make the coffee machine work, looking at it as though the damn thing would obey and do as he said if only he stared at it long enough, like he only needed mere willpower to brew that coffee. It had driven me crazy. I knew he was new to this, that he didn't know what to do with all the tiredness and the ordeal of getting up and starting the day, I knew he wasn't doing it on purpose. But all I could think about was grabbing the machine and hitting him with it. Whatever that would have helped. 

“Hey!“ I heard my brother call and turned. 

He was jogging up to some girl sitting against a wall with a knife in her hand. I hadn't even noticed her, too lost in the mental images of making Cas stop his stupid attempts of being a decent human being and the way he kept looking at me as we stalked through the snow. 

As Sam was grabbing the knife out of her hands before she could cut more wounds into her flesh, I just stood there and watched. I couldn't seem to move, couldn't even swallow. Shell-shocked, paralyzed even. Blood trickled down her arms, leaving deep red stains in the snow, melting it away. Warm and thick liquid, the only thing I could really pay attention to. 

I barely felt myself making steps towards them then, my brain fixed on her blood so much everything else around me blurred into some sort of black abyss. My mouth watered, my stomach turned, my only thought closed in on somehow, in whatever way, getting to that blood. 

“Dean, could you—,“ I heard my brother’s dull voice as I came closer, but I didn't hear the rest of it. Maybe he’d stopped talking, maybe I just couldn't concentrate on what he said, my entire body feeling like it was controlled by something other than me. “Dean?“ I heard again, but still the only command operating me was getting to the pool of blood. 

“Cas!“ was what I heard next, louder and clearer this time, but I wasn't even sure who that was anymore, wasn't sure who called that name, and wasn't sure what for. 

Suddenly there were hands on my arms and a blurry shape blocking some of the view I had on the blood that attracted me like nothing ever had before. My heart was beating so loud in my ears, pounding in my chest like a thousand drums, my hands shaking to the rhythm they were playing, a beat taking control of my body that felt like it would kill me if I didn't reach that red stain soon enough. 

Distantly, I felt something on my cheek, a hand, I thought, slapping me. But I just couldn't snap out of it, couldn't take control of myself, even while something inside me still managed to be aware of how I wasn't supposed to act like this. 

I thought to hear my name, but everything around me looked so red and felt so hot and I could feel myself sweating through every layer of clothing and my entire body shaking like I was sitting in a bathtub full of ice water. I tried pushing through that wall of flesh in front of me, see past those shoulders, get forward no matter what, but some sort of light blue glow was blinding me and that wall just wouldn't give in. 

And then there was darkness, and vaguely I realized that it was dark because my eyes were closed. Something in my head seemed to be switched on, or maybe switched off, and a wave of thoughts came crashing down on me, reminding me of who I was and waking me from whatever strange stupor I’d been in. My sense of direction came back and only now I understood that I had Cas’ lips pressed against mine.

I opened my eyes again when they left me, taking in the scene, in front of me Cas searching my face, Sam a few feet away and staring at me like I was out of my mind. My heartbeat sped up again for a whole different reason, my head trying to come up with any scenario in which Sam could have not just seen that and in which I wouldn't have to explain both my weird behavior and the fact that I wasn't freaking out on the spot because Cas had just kissed me. 

On the huge spectrum of how I could have reacted I landed on saying nothing and just turning around and walking away. It might not have been the wisest decision I’d ever made, but it sure was the only one I could come up with at that point. 

I was getting away fast, making my way through the snow like there was nothing more important than getting back to the motel, wishing I had my car here but knowing that it wouldn't make things go any faster, because driving an Impala through several feet worth of snow wasn't really an option anymore. I was a good distance away, as I heard Sam call out for me. At first I ignored him, of course, but when his voice got more irritated I couldn't help but turn and yell, “What?“

I walked all the way back, the arctic cold air in my lungs and throat too sharp to keep forcing my voice against it and the rising anger inside me untamable.   
“ _What?_ “ I barked, as I reached him, angry at Sam that he couldn't just give me a break. Angry at Cas that he’d thought it’d be a good idea to kiss me out there in the open in front of everyone. And angry at myself for all kinds of reasons. 

But Sam had his back to me, staring at the wall of a building, as he seemed deeply focussed on something I couldn't see. 

“Look, whatever you think you saw,“ I started babbling, still walking up to him, “it was nothing, okay? You don’t have to go all brooding and meaningful on me now, it was just—“

“Dean,“ he cut me off. “Shut up for a second and look at this.“

He stepped aside, revealing what was so interesting on that wall, and as I came closer and saw it my heart skipped some beats. I swallowed down against the lump building in my throat. There on the wall, carved into it in big clear letters, was the word CROATOAN.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean is a flight risk, Cas is human, and Sam chides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's reading and giving kudos and who left me comments so far, bless you people :)

_* I’m not good at pretending that I’m happy to be alone *_  
________

The diner was burning down. Flakes of ash were raining down and whirling in the air as we walked through town, slowly and careful, our guns drawn and our eyes taking in what this town had become. Maddening screams echoed against walls full of graffiti and streets full of garbage. People were running around, some naked, some bloody and dirty, and no matter how much we tried, no matter how many times we tried to stop them, they were punching each other or gathered in groups to rampage and set fire or simply kick at things to let out an anger and violence I’d never witnessed. 

A kid was sitting in the snow, in the middle of this crazy scene, resting her head against the frozen chest of a corpse that might have been dead a long time, or might only be dead a few days. You simply couldn't tell anymore. Bodies showed up all over town, playthings for the insane, or dug out from their graves and just dropped wherever, or remaining where they were killed by what used to be friends. 

There was a stink in the air, a mix of death and burning things, ashes and snow mingling together like a whole new kind of weather. It was bad. Walking through and seeing how lost and absolutely out of their minds those people were, it dawned on me, finally, how much we’d lost control over the situation. 

We had to shoot people. Normal people who’d once worked in a shop or babysat the neighbors toddler, coming at us in violent attacks that left us no other choice than a head shot. There was no cure to this, there was no source we could dry up with the things we’d learned, by what we’d done our whole life, because there was no monster to kill or demon to send back to hell or some big bad guy we could somehow trick and incapacitate. 

This was a virus. And just like back when we’d first learned about it, about its disastrous destructive effect on people, about how it can’t be cured nor ended, we were helpless. We were in over our heads, forced to watch an entire town go to shit, forced to be in the middle of this without a way to escape, with roads out barricaded and people attacking anyone too unsick, people who just couldn't help it. 

Sam dealt with the whole thing by going into military mode, pushing away his frustration and fear and letting only the rational side of him act and think. Cas was being very quiet, worry never leaving his face like it’d been attached there permanently, and I just knew he wanted to make it all better and have his powers back just to have something to use against all this. I didn't have the capacity to make him feel any better, though, I still tried to suppress the constant urge to join all the crazy. 

Of course none of them knew. What was I supposed to tell them anyway? That I’d obviously been infected? That somehow one of the Croats had bled on me? I didn't even know when that’d happened. But I could feel my mind changing, my thoughts drifting away from sane and from me and urging towards things I’d never thought I was capable of even thinking. I’d always been nothing but a cold-blooded killer, as some angel had once put it so accurately, I had oceans of blood on my hands. But I liked to think I did it for a reason, took life to save others, to do the right thing, and not to give in to whatever crazy things the virus in my veins wanted me to do. I saved the world, I didn't destroy it. 

By the time we reached more dangerous areas in the city that were crawling with the infected, we soon realized it’d be better to return to the motel, the only nearly safe place remaining. I felt thrown back to that weird vision of 2014 Zachariah had sent me to, a strange yet somewhat sentimental deja-vu crossing my mind. I was kind of the same sort of conflicted inside as back then, only not between free will and saying yes but between somehow overcoming urges I had little to no control over and just giving in to them. Because fuck it. 

Fuck this place. Fuck all their lives and fuck responsibility and that it always had to be us to get into this kind of shit. Fuck me. 

Why couldn't I have just stayed home? I would probably watch a horror flick marathon right now and kill my last remaining brain cells and my liver with my twentieth drink and I wouldn't care about anyone here because I just wouldn't know. I’d still drown in my self-pity and hate myself in the healthiest way I knew, and Cas would still be god knows where and still wouldn't answer his damn phone. I wouldn't have to deal with the idea of me slowly turning into one of these things, I wouldn't have to deal with the fact that now that I could maybe have him I couldn't have him at all. 

“We’re outnumbered,“ Sam said, looking around. Croats were swarming from all over the place and a little part of me made me stop shooting for a second and wondered where this virus had come from all of a sudden. 

“I’d call it a target-rich environment,“ I gave back, because I had to joke the feeling away that I wasn't in any position to shoot them. I should shoot myself. I shouldn't treat them like a lost cause while I was just as lost as they were. 

Carly huffed, apparently amused. “Totally dig your perspective, Dean,“ she said in approval. 

I threw her a fake smirk, but focussed again as one of the Croats rushed in my direction, blood smeared all over the thing’s face, its teeth covered in it. I shoved Cas behind me, he yelped in surprise, his fingers curling into the back of my jacket, but not by fear, I thought. I fired my shotgun, the Croat dropping to the ground just as Cas showed me just how much he disapproved of using me as a human shield by throwing me a warning glance, that stubborn bastard. 

“We’re heading back,“ Sam decided, barking the order to make doubtlessly clear to us that there was no discussion. 

It was smart to retreat to somewhere safe, maybe even sit it out until they all inevitably and irrecoverably vanished into thin air, hopefully. And I’d agree, if not for the fact that he was taking one of them back with him. 

______________________

Rowena was long gone. I don't remember what exactly her excuse was, only that there’d been a couple of _Aye_ s and _deary_ s and something something she’s _terrifically pleased_ how much of a help she’d been, because Rowena isn't very humble and seems to refuse criticism to a point where you can’t even tell her fuck you. 

We’d split up on the way to the motel to shake off the Croats and not lead any of them to the motel with us. Sam had gone with Carly and Cas with me, but when we’d crossed paths again near the motel, there’d been a stray Croat. So I’d done what I do and distracted it so the others could take Cas and get themselves to safety while I took care of it.

I was lounging on my bed now, sporting my shiner and my fake calmness like a pro, when Cas emerged from the bathroom, looking like he was about to announce something earth-shattering. 

“We’re out of fresh towels,“ he said, pulling a face at the one he’d just used to dry his hair. 

“Well, suck it up. I doubt there’s housekeeping in this place anymore.“

He carelessly dropped the towel to the floor, making me realize how much I was rubbing off on him. He sat on the other bed and fixed me with that horrible worried expression of his, and I wished I could just disappear. 

“How are you,“ he started then, innocently enough but clearly out to discuss something in particular. 

_Damn me_ , I thought but kept myself completely unfazed on the outside. “I’m good,“ I said, smiling. “How are you?“

“Dean,“ rumbled out of him. “We need to talk about it.“

“We really don’t.“

“So you want to pretend nothing happened? Do you really expect me to just ignore the matter?“ he asked. 

I looked at him, his eyes somewhat nervous and urgent in a way that made me buckle a little. I had no fucking clue if he was talking about the part where he’d kissed me, or the part where he’d kissed me again, or maybe the part where I’d zoned out and gone after blood. 

“There’s nothing to talk about,“ I simply gave, confident that it was true for all the possible topics he could be talking about. 

Cas seemed taken aback by that, he looked away for a moment, only to come back at me as though, if he poked me and my reluctance hard enough, he would get it out of me eventually.   
“You’re being unreasonable,“ he stated, like I didn't know that, like I only just met myself yesterday. Like I hadn't been unreasonable my whole life. 

“How’s your being human going?“ I diverted the conversation, my voice cold. Of course I knew he probably wasn't going to fall for that trick, but provoking him sometimes helped to distract him from whatever unneeded worry he came at me with. “You feel useless yet?“

He scowled. “I’m not useless,“ he said as though trying to convince himself more than me. “And I don’t need you to protect me, by the way.“

“Oh, you mean because you’re just preparing to pull one of your self-sacrificing ego stunts where you summon up your last remaining grace and save the day?“ I scoffed. “Because, yeah right, you’re an _Angel of the Lord_.“

He frowned, then scowled even more. “Even when I’d like to risk my life for you once again, _Dean Winchester_ ,“ he gave, my name sounding like an insult, “I can’t. In case you didn't notice, I am human now. Entirely. And you said I was still useful.“

“Yeah, maybe I just said that to cheer up your sorry ass,“ I trailed, looking out the window, because I couldn’t seem to stand looking at him. I wanted to grab him and throw him against a wall, then lick the trail of water slowly running down from his neck to his collarbones and bite a piece of flesh out of him. 

He was silent for a while, while I watched the world outside burn and bang with all the noise people were making a few streets over, a picture and soundscape pressed into a small slit between the yellow curtains. The beer can Christmas tree was rotting next to it, decoration coming off and that night already forgotten and shoved into the very back of my mind when I’d still had hope to return back home. 

That hope was gone now. The childish wish for a normal Christmas kind of ridiculous now that I had a whole new set of problems up my sleeve. I was doomed to stay here, become one of the Croats and in the end disappear who knows where, and maybe I would have put an end to it already, run off to change fronts or just put a bullet in my head to avoid hurting the people I cared about, if only I weren’t such a coward. If only I knew how to tell them that I wasn't going to make it out of this and that they couldn't save me. It was almost funny how I’d managed to fuck up something that was already beyond repair. 

“Was it cheering up when you kissed me back, too?“ Cas asked, low and quietly, like he was scared of the answer to that question. 

I looked back at him, couldn’t help it, and I wanted so badly to tell him how it wasn’t, how it wasn’t even close to that, but I couldn’t. Maybe because I was past the point where I could still feel regret, because the virus in my blood was killing everything that cared, or maybe I just wanted to push him away to make the loss a little less terrible.

“Was it cheering up on your part?“ I countered. 

“I don’t…,“ he started stammering.

“Or was it pity?“ I asked before he could finish. “Because poor old Dean needed that after he made a fool out of himself when he tried to kiss you, right?“   
I watched him, waiting for a reply that never came, then spat, “Well, thanks for that. And sorry I put you in that position.“

“You don’t need to apologize, Dean.“

“But I did,“ I shot back, swinging my legs off the bed and facing him. “I did a thousand times! I sent you message after message telling you I’m sorry, but you didn't even look at them, did you? And I did all of that even though I’m not. I’m _not_ sorry, Cas.“

“I did look at them,“ he said, his eyes dropping down to his hands in his lap.

“So you just chose to ignore them?“

“No, I—“ He looked back up at me. “I needed time to think.“

I nodded, then smiled bitterly at my own hands. “You know what?“ I said after a moment. “It doesn't matter anymore. If it goes how it did before, this whole thing will be over soon, and then you go back to being an angel and everybody just… moves on.“

Cas didn’t get to respond to that, though he didn't really seem like he had a response anyway, as Sam came knocking on our door. I barely had time to wonder about how he’d knocked for the first time or why, because he got straight to the point. 

“Can I talk to you outside for a sec?“

I followed him outside without a look back, somewhat glad I was getting away from the situation, or at least glad until Sam lost his friendly tone and started barking at me. 

“I was worried about you, man. Where have you been?“ 

“Emotional hell.“

Sam frowned, then seemed to remember he was pissed at me. “Seriously, Dean. What’s going on with you?“

“Haven’t we been over this already?“

“I’m talking about your weird behavior back there, and how you keep putting yourself in danger!“

“Okay, okay,“ I gave, raising my hands. “Don’t have one of your episodes. I’m fine, alright. I’m just tired.“

“Stop bullshitting me! Something’s wrong with you and I wanna know what!“

I ran a hand over my face. I knew I wasn’t going to win against that huge wall of righteous Sam in front of me, he wouldn’t let me off the hook this time. So I could as well just come out with it and set things right. Sam deserved to know, after all. 

“Alright,“ I said, looking anywhere but him. “Don’t freak out, okay? But I guess I’m… I got infected.“

“YOU’RE A CROAT?!“ 

“A little louder, Sam, I think there’s a guy five streets over who didn’t quite hear you.“

“Sorry,“ he gave as he seemed to have gained back his cool a little. “You sure?“

“Yeah, I’m sure.“ I bowed my head, the ground between my feet so much more bearable to look at than his face. He’d lose his brother. I’d lose him. Soon I’d be a rampaging murdering nutcase, one of the crowd, and even if I’d manage not to hurt him or the others, I’d still be gone when everything was over. 

“I can feel it, Sammy,“ I said after a long stretch of silence. “It’s inside me. It’s eating at me. I barely even hold it together, man.“

“So, you…,“ Sam started but never finished, the tears welling up in his eyes audible. 

“Yeah“

“Maybe there’s a cure, maybe we—“

“Stop,“ I cut him off and looked up. “Stop, Sam.“ I put my hand on his shoulder and mentally thanked the virus in my blood for making it so easy not to cry. I did feel a sting in my heart, a quiet pain by the thought of leaving my brother, of not being able to protect him, to do that one job I’d always lived for. But it really was quiet, and I just knew soon it’d be gone entirely. 

“You’re gonna be fine, Sammy,“ I told him, my voice soft. “I’m gonna leave, and you’re gonna look out for Cas and Car and wait here until it’s all over, alright?“

“No,“ he said and shook off my hand. “I’m not gonna let you leave, Dean.“

“Don’t be stupid.“

“Shut up!“ he yelled. “I’m not gonna let you go and die alone. I’m not gonna let you get out there and hurt people.“

“Sam—“

“When you— _if_ you turn violent, we’re gonna lock you in one of the rooms, alright? And until then, you’re gonna stay here with us.“

I eyed his face, determination written all over it, his eyes so full of that little something that always, no matter what, made me give in. He had a hold on me with that, a hold I could never say no to and would never be able to resist. 

“Alright, Sammy,“ I agreed. “Alright.“

________________

“So, how do you feel?“ Carly asked me.

“Awesome,“ I gave back from where I was lying on the bed. 

It’d been almost two days of hanging around in my room, because Sam didn't allow me to leave it, even had the others and himself take turns at watching me, because apparently I was a flight risk. At first, they went out to run errands, sneaking around town and into houses, but then they did those hunts for food less and less often because it got too dangerous out there, and I was pretty sure I’d eaten everything remotely edible there was. 

But I was so hungry. I was so uneasy and couldn't settle down for even just a minute, let alone sleep. I got up and walked over to the kitchenette, rummaged in the drawers and cupboards for anything, but all I found was empty wrappers from fastfood chains and cereal boxes that I’d already licked all the crumbs out of.

“Seriously, Dean,“ Carly started anew. “How do you feel?“

I turned back to her, her face curious and honest. “What’s with the third degree?“

“Well,“ she said, “I could as well just sit here quietly and watch you in awkward silence, but that’s just not who I am.“ Her eyes fixed me intently. “So. How do you _feel_?“

I joined her at the table with the empty box that’d once carried that apple pie for Christmas Eve and still had some dry crumbs left in it that I picked up with my finger. Sam never really talked much when it was his turn to watch, he was always too busy researching and finding a way to cure me. And Cas never talked at all, because now there was something between us that just made it impossible to interact with each other. A dead silence, like something had broken, or like something needed to be broken to make all this bearable. 

This was Carly’s first watch, but she seemed to be bored with the silent treatment I usually got.   
“Could you just drop the topic, please?“ I gave and licked my fingertip, not even anywhere near satisfied. 

Her hand settled on my arm and she gave me a soft smile. “What d’you wanna talk about?“ she asked, some sort of focus in her eyes that had me unable to look away. 

I really didn’t want to talk about anything, except for maybe a way to get me some food. But something inside me started screaming, crying out to be heard, something in her eyes so green and familiar that I couldn't help but drown in them and that feeling of having to share, _needing_ to share. 

“Seriously, how do you do that?“ I asked, a mere whisper. 

She smirked. “I guess I’m just good at making people open up, you know.“

I looked at her wordlessly for another minute, then it just broke out of me. “I kissed Cas.“

“Oh my god, what?“ she gave in mock horror, putting her hand to her chest. “Only the idea of two single men obviously attracted to each other kissing! We must alert the church elders!“

“Ha-ha,“ I made, unamused. “You’re really not that funny.“

“I really think I am.“

I shook my head towards the empty pie box in front of me. Cas wasn't just a single man. He was an angel, a millennia old celestial being that would live long after I was dead. And if that wasn’t scary enough, then maybe the fact that he was a man, or at least his vessel, and that I’d never even felt like that for a guy and that I wouldn’t get the chance to explore that feeling, because I wasn’t going to live long enough to do so. 

Sam and Cas entered the room then. Sam dropped a nearly empty box of crackers in front of me. I devoured them like it was my last meal, which it could as well be, inhaling those dry old things in mere seconds without even wondering where he’d dug them up from. 

“Man, I’d do some questionable things for some meat,“ I said and looked around at everyone like I was checking for willing parties. No one gave in, of course, probably because no one had any actual meat to give me. My stomach was still growling and turning inside me like it was about to start eating the other organs, if I couldn't satisfy it. 

I threw the empty box somewhere behind me, displeased with how the crackers didn't even change anything about how hollow and nauseous I felt. I reached for my last bottle of whiskey, always helpful when it came to filling holes inside me, but Sam grabbed it first. 

“Come on,“ I complained, stood up and took the bottle back. 

“Dean,“ he said sternly, “I don’t think drinking is a good idea.“

“I don’t think your face is a good idea,“ I gave back sullenly and turned to peacefully eradicate the last drops of alcohol I had. 

“Dean,“ he chided, and I could feel the righteous speech coming. 

“For fuck’s sake, Sam,“ I growled back, “give me a _break_.“

He opened his mouth for a comeback I really didn't want to listen to, but it never came as I just threw the empty bottle through the window. Glass shattered, a too loud noise for a room that had been so quiet for the past few days, and I hoped everyone would just shut up about how much beyond fucked the whole situation was. 

It was stupid to keep me here, the anger inside me already risen so high I barely managed to keep myself from punching people in the face for even looking at me. They’d taken all my knifes and guns from me, didn’t even leave any objects remotely sharp lying around, though I didn't know if it was for their safety or mine. And it occurred to me that suddenly, in this scenario, I was the monster.

“Cas,“ Sam said after some minutes of tense silence, “You still okay with taking the next watch? I could take it for you, if you want.“

I looked at Cas, something uncertain in his entire posture, but the most disturbing thing was that little spark of fear in his eyes. He nodded and smiled a smile so fake that it almost surprised me how human he’d gotten and wondered if that was another thing he’d copied from me. 

The other two left and I dropped myself on the bed again. Not that I’d be able to sleep, my eyes already feeling so dry by now not even blinking seemed to help anymore. My head hurt. My face hurt. My innards hurt. Everything was pain and the impulses I had to fight all the time had me crawl out of my skin like the only way out was escaping my own body. 

I sat up again, couldn't stay in one position for more than a few minutes, uneasy and jittery into every bone I had. I watched Cas open some book, by the looks of the cover probably some ancient lore book. His hair was messy, like he’d just woken from a nap, his face in deep lines, whether it was worry or something else, I didn’t know. 

He seemed almost a little too calm for how he’d looked at me just a moment before, almost too okay with this. As though he wasn't babysitting a mean drunk infected asshole who was about to become nothing but a wild animal, a monster that used to be his friend and that could have become so much more than that. 

I lost myself in him. In the way he turned the pages with those hands that used to settle on my shoulder whenever they could and whenever I’d needed them to. In the way he frowned here and there, probably reading something interesting, the way he moved his lips that tiny little bit along to the lines he was reading. In the way the daylight grazed half of his face, like it always did, like it always made him glow, the blue of his eyes so bright it was almost grey. 

I’d found his scent the minute he’d entered the room, a scent I could spot anywhere, mixed with that new kind of flavor he had as a human being. The scent of his sweat, of soap from a shower, the scent of his blood that I could hear pumping through his veins. I thought I could hear his heartbeat, feel it with my eyes, see it pulsing at his throat. And I just wanted to bite into it to drink.

I jumped. I realized I’d been biting my finger so hard it was bleeding, the taste of my own blood on my tongue and covering my teeth, and I almost threw up. I had to get out of here. And I had to do it without anyone noticing. For the first time since we were here I wished they ignored me, wished they paid as little attention to me as they had throughout the whole case. 

About two hours later, Cas had to use the bathroom, and I blessed the universe and whatever had screwed with his powers for making him have to pee. This was my window of opportunity, and as soon as the bathroom door closed I grabbed my coat and sneaked out.

I took some weapons from the Impala’s trunk, closing it as quietly as possible and looking around to check if anyone saw me. I heard Sam and Carly giggle in their room and for a second I smiled at their door. It was good that Sam had her. I was glad they’d found each other and hoped she’d help him get through this when I’d be gone. 

Then I ran. I ran until I was out of sight, in some alley in the town center. My heart was pounding in my chest, adrenalin for a moment pushing aside the effects of the virus, but I wasn't scared. As far as I saw it, I’d either die by Croats finding and attacking me, or they wouldn't and I’d die anyway by becoming a Croat myself. Or vanish. Whatever the plan was here. Maybe it was another stupid attempt at the end of the world, would spread everywhere else and soon all towns would swarm with the infected. Maybe it was a test run again and we’d just vanish tomorrow. But I didn't care. I needed something to eat and I sure wouldn't find that back at The Hunger Games Inn, with a self-proclaimed shrink girl, a silent almost angel, and a brother who couldn't stop trying. 

I reached into my pocket to store a knife there and found my broken phone. I’d completely forgotten about that. I looked at its shattered screen for a moment, but I didn't need to call anyone anyway, so I dropped it near a dumpster as I walked on. My gun lay ready and loaded in my hand as I roamed the streets, looking out for Croats, but there was no one. 

By the time I reached the supermarket the sky was already orange with the setting sun, but the streets were still quiet. The shop’s glass doors were shattered and broken and I entered, stepping through the shards and ducking behind the shelfs. I came by that aisle I’d found Cas in, eying that hat, but I couldn't quite feel the wistful reminder of it over the loud and aching urge of my hunger. 

I ate everything I found, quietly as I could and hidden in the corridors of shelfs, but it still wasn't enough. I ventured on, the floor covered in boxes and trash and broken glass, the shop only darkly lit by what little daylight came in through the front.

Then I heard a crack nearby, a scuffling on the floor like something was dragged across it. I crawled along the aisle I was in, cautiously peered around the corner. There was a body on the floor. It was Catherine Schwartz. Over her another person with their back to me. It was a woman with blond hair and she kneeled over Catherine’s still breathing body. From where I was crouched against the shelf my clouded brain couldn't make out who it was or if I’d seen her before, I could only see Catherine’s face and her shaking hands grabbing against the dirty floor. 

The woman took her face in both hands and she did something to her that I couldn't see, but Catherine’s eyes grew wide and wild, staring back at the face over her like she recognized it. A quiet whisper went through the air, and a scratching little noise, like fingernails grinding along a bare brick wall, and Catherine’s eyes started going grey. It was like the life was being sucked out of her, her irises turning pale and dull, glazed over and blind.

I remembered that. I knew I’d seen those kind of eyes before, and when it hit me where and also who this leather jacket belonged to I sucked in a sharp breath. The woman turned, but I didn’t see if she spotted me, because there was suddenly a hand covering my mouth and someone pulling me away.

I was dragged to the other end of the store so fast I barely managed to stay on my feet, and when that hand finally left my face I turned to find Cas behind me. 

“What are you doing here?“ I asked in a frantic whisper. 

He shushed me and looked over my shoulder where we sat against the corner by the beer fridges. His hand found my shoulder while he silently observed the surroundings, and when nothing happened and no one came to get us he turned his eyes back on me. 

“I followed her here when I was looking for you,“ he whispered. 

“Where’s Sam?“

He looked over my shoulder again. Then, “I think she put him to sleep somehow.“

“What—,“ I gave, swallowed. “What is she?“

“I don’t know,“ Cas gave back, his eyes fixed back on the two aisles leading to us. “We need to get out of here.“

“Cas,“ I aspirated, regret filling me with an urgency that made it hard to breathe. I’d done it again. Been stupid and gave in to an impulse, and now I’d gotten him in danger, too. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—“

But I couldn't finish, there was a sudden sharp pain on the back of my head and I blacked out.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is bloody, Cas is missing, and Sam uses his gun.

_* I don’t feel like we’re done here *_  
__________

I woke on my stomach. My face seemed to be bedded in dirt and what I thought was a sticky puddle of blood, the iron stink of it creeping up my nose as I gained back my consciousness. As my eyes opened they found the white and light blue tiling of the store’s floor and the beer fridge next to where I was lying. Some nasty pain throbbed on the back of my head and the reminder of the hit I’d taken came rushing back to me. I ran my hand through my hair as I sat up, crusted and soaked in my own blood drying into it and on my face and neck. 

_Right…_

Right! I jumped on my feet, my eyes searching the store for a blue hat or dark hair or even anything at all, but there was no one. The air returned to my lungs with an acidity I hadn’t anticipated, mostly because I hadn’t anticipated ever breathing again. It was morning, the bright sunlight coming in through the front like razor blades and a swelling in the pit of my stomach that almost had me throw up. It wasn't hunger anymore, I wasn't hungry at all. I didn't feel the way I had, didn't have those crazy urges and violent thoughts, my brain felt washed clean.

I felt like myself again.

And it was odd. I was both surprised and entirely not. I felt like flying, and at the same time like falling, as the memories of what had happened all came back at once. I’d been out of my mind and my brain clouded, but I knew what I had seen. It’d been Carly. Carly who wasn't a person, who was so much more than a person, some _thing_ feeding of people, feeding of their insanity, I thought. And it’d been her who’d knocked me unconscious and it was probably also her fault Cas was gone. 

But I should have been the one who was gone, not Cas. 

I should have turned into a Croat, should have gone crazy and become a monster, should have vanished or been killed. But it wasn't like that, was it? It’d never been like that, it’d never been the Croatoan virus to begin with.

I teetered through the store, still a little shaky on my legs, and grabbed a bottle of water on the way out, a sudden dryness and thirst in my mouth I hadn't felt in days. It was kind of warm outside, the sun burning down in almost summer-like fashion, and I blinked away the white spots in my sight as I walked on down the street. 

I had to find Sam. God knows what she’d done to him. I tried not to picture him injured or dead, or taken as well, tried to stay calm but alert, but it was hard to fight all the worry and anger I felt. That _bitch_. That fucking manipulative bitch. She’d fooled us the whole time, played us, toyed with us, and it hit me then that I shouldn't have ignored my gut feeling I’d had from the very start and shouldn’t have ignored Sam’s doubts when he’d still had them.

The streets were empty, the town absolutely quiet. I saw a cat straying around lazily, even some mice climbing in and out the damaged shop fronts and broken down doors, and crows circling in the sky on the search of something edible. Snow melted under my boots, it wasn't even cold enough to make my breath freeze in the air. It was all different, it felt different, everything had changed somehow. If it was for my senses coming back or if it really was, I didn’t know, but the uneasiness inside me made it difficult to concentrate on anything else but the horrible idea that I could be all alone out here. 

Maybe it wasn't the next day. Who knew how long I’d been out cold, for all I knew I could have been lying there far longer than just a few hours. Maybe I _had_ turned, I thought. Maybe I’d been a Croat after all, or whatever other creature, and had just sweated it out and slept it off. Was that even possible?

No. The blood in my hair and face would have been dry already, wouldn't still be drying, my wound would have healed. I was sure it was still December, even with the freaky weather change. But where was everyone? Where did they all go, and did they all change back to their old selves, or was it just me?

I walked on, watching my boots leave prints in the melting snow, the sun above too blinding to keep my eyes up. The air smelled different, there was no death in it, no burning things and ashes, and I realized that all the corpses were gone, too. The night before, these streets had looked like a battlefield, dead people everywhere among those who’d run rogue. But the town was empty now, only garbage and debris covered the ground, no dead and no living. Then I heard a scuffling sound close by, echoing through the dead silence, sounding ten times as loud as it actually was. My head snapped up. 

“Dean?“ Sam called as he slowly approached. He was looking at me strange, studied my face with something like suspicion in his eyes as he walked towards me in hesitant steps. 

I was so glad to see him, my heart felt like it dropped several inches into my gut, so glad to see anybody, really, after I’d been strolling through this godforsaken town for almost an hour without seeing another soul. Until he pointed his gun at me. 

“What are you doing?“ I asked, stopped in my tracks only a few feet away from him. 

Sam didn’t say anything, still eyed me like I was one of the monsters we usually hunted. His grip on the gun tightened, his expression tensed. 

“Sam?“ I said and raised my hands. “It’s me.“

He remained silent, but who could blame him? He probably thought I’d turned, that I wasn't his brother anymore, only a cold-blooded thing with the sole instinct to attack. Who could blame him with all that’d been going on, with all the blood in my face and staining my shirt. Who could blame him when I was trying hard to keep calm, but couldn't shake that wild look he must see in my eyes, because this was so far from what I’d expected to happen. I was used to guns being aimed at me, but I’d never get used to my brother doing it. 

“It’s me, I swear,“ I said again. 

He must have seen something in my face then, whatever it was, because he lowered his gun. 

“What happened?“ he asked. 

“I don’t know, I just woke up in the store.“

“Whose blood is that?“

“Mine,“ I said, sensing that he was still a little on edge. “Carly hit me on the head.“

His eyes narrowed. “What?“

“Yeah. I don’t think she’s human, Sam. And I think she took Cas.“

“Cas is gone?“

I nodded, looking somewhere else, a shop on the right that used to sell flowers, now a burnt-out ruin with all the colors gone black. Where was everyone, I wondered again, if it hadn’t been the Croatoan virus? What had happened here? 

“We should leave,“ Sam suggested, then reached into his pocket. He threw me something and as I caught it I saw it was my broken phone. I wondered what he kept giving it back to me for, that damaged thing. I looked at it for a moment, remembered how it’d gotten damaged in the first place and realized that I’d never get the chance to read those messages again, whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

I had to find Cas. 

“I have to find Cas,“ I said. 

“Of course,“ he gave, sighed and put a hand on my shoulder, but it didn't feel as reassuring as it should have. “But I doubt Cas is still here,“ he said, missing the point by a fucking mile. 

It wasn't about if he was still here, I knew that. I knew Carly had taken him somewhere hard to find, if she was smart, and they were probably long gone. It was about the fact that it was my fault. Thoughts came crawling back into my mind that I’d so skillfully avoided all that time, now empowered more than ever, since it was all over now. This case was closed. The fight was done. But we hadn't won it.

As we walked back to the motel I told Sam about what I’d seen, about watching Carly sucking the life out of Catherine and how I’d seen those grey dead eyes before. How Carly must have killed that Dale guy, too. We didn't know how she’d done it, what she was, and what she did it for. We didn't know if all the insanity over the past days that had ripped this town apart and driven its people down a road of destruction and violence and death, if that was all her doing. We didn't know what exactly had happened to us and why we were still alive.

But I knew I had to find Cas. And I knew I would kill her when I did. And no matter how badly I wanted to start looking, here and now, speed out of this town, rushing my car to wherever, even if it had to be across the whole damn country, I knew I had to be patient first. We had to find out what Carly was and find her and Cas the smart way. 

We had work to do.

__________________

I was in my room packing my stuff when it happened. One minute I’d rolled my pants and put all the clothes in my duffel that were scattered about the room, a weird sort of calmness in me that was probably just another coping strategy my mind came up with, and the next minute I lost that calmness. It was when the few things I’d brought were gathered and left only two things in the room that didn't belong there. A dirty trench coat and a blue tie. 

I ran my hand over the fabric, now dry and almost warm, as though it’d just been worn a minute ago, and my throat closed up and left me breathless, even as I felt a scream building inside me. Inside that endless chasm in my chest, that deep hole people always left when someone took them from me. 

How could I not lose it? How was I supposed to deal with this? With how I’d thought I’d die and would never get the chance to make things right with Cas, and now that I wouldn't die yet another turn of events made it impossible. I knew now that I _could_ kiss him, that he wasn't going to back away again, that it was possible to be close to him without him pushing me away. But he was gone, taken and probably hurt. For all I knew, he could be dead.

I ran a hand across my face, smearing the single tear leaking from my eye that I hadn't managed to hold back, my hand shaking and kind of cold. All kinds of things were battling inside me, everything rising up into my throat at once, a suffocating mess swirling around there and going up and up and up like a rising fever. It killed me. It killed me that she’d managed to steal him from right next to me, that I hadn't been able to protect him. It was like she was making fun of me. Of everything I was.

Because I was a hunter. Trained from the very start to save people, raised to protect not only my little brother but also everyone else around me. I was the one who suffered for others, who sacrificed himself, even when it wasn't always appreciated. I was a fighter, a warrior, a soldier whose only life force was to kill evil and keep my family together. And I’d only been unalert for one second.

I inhaled a calming breath, pulled myself together somehow, then took the trench coat and tie to put them in my duffel. As I opened the door I had one last look back into that room, at the two monstrous beds and that dusty old couch and Cas’ vacant seat on it. That little eyesore we’d shared over the past week and a half. Where Cas had woken me up in, with his neat little trick. Where we’d co-existed in silence, or argued about things I couldn't even remember. Where we’d worked together for the first time without arguing. Where we’d had a real Christmas, I remembered, still remembered the scent of apple pie it’d been filled with that night, and the scent of Cas it’d been filled with every night. Where I’d woken up in after Christmas Eve, next to Cas, wrapped all around him. Our first kiss here. And how I’d walked in entirely changed after whatever darkness had influenced me in the park. 

I had to find him.

_________________

This whole thing was a conundrum. An entire town had gone missing. Cas was gone. Carly was some sort of creature. And Sam and I had just stood there and watched, influenced by something we couldn't explain. I’d been driven by hunger and anger, and he’d been driven by something else entirely.

We were back on the road, stewing in our own confused thinking while the tires rumbled along the asphalt as the sole background noise to it all. 

“You knew something’s off about her,“ I stated into the silence at some point.

In the corner of my eye I saw him nodding, and I wondered if he felt just as guilty as I did about not having acted on it when we hadn’t yet been distracted by whatever manipulation she’d done. 

But that guilt was mine, I thought. “I should’ve listened to you.“

Sam frowned at me. 

“I mean,“ I continued after I threw him a brief look, “I shouldn’t have ignored your feeling about her, you know? When you asked me about how it felt when she touched my shoulder and all? I bet that’s how she’s doing it.“

“You didn't know,“ Sam offered weakly. 

Another stretch of silence fell over us then. I hadn't known. But I should have known. I should have trusted my gut feeling, and Sam’s gut feeling, his natural compass about those things that had only barely ever been wrong. But I guess I’d seen him with that girl, seen him let someone in for the first time in ages, and I’d just been unable to break it. I’d filed his suspicions under him trying to chicken out, like he needed to find a reason to not go for it, like he’d simply been scared to give in to something he’d denied himself for so long. He never seemed to have luck with the ladies, though. 

“Can’t believe you slept with her,“ I said, trying to lighten the mood a little, a smirk on my face that almost felt real.

“You know?“ he asked, mild horror in his voice.

“Of course I know,“ I said as I looked at him. “I’m not stupid.“

“Yeah, well, jury’s still out on that.“

I furrowed my brow at him.

He just smiled and turned his eyes back to the road ahead of us. The sun was painting circles on the front shield, reflecting the light back and forth, and my thoughts drifted back to uneasier grounds. What if it had _all_ been an illusion? What if she hadn't only made us blind to what she was doing and manipulated us in ways I still hadn't fully figured out? What if she’d _made_ Sam fall for her, made him run after her to distract him from his suspicions? What if she’d made Cas fall for me? What if that was what had changed? She’d been pretty unsubtle about how she wanted us to be with each other from the start, so I couldn't help but wonder if she was who’d suddenly made it happen.

“I kissed Cas,“ I confessed a second time this week. But this time it was without some magical touch on my arm, without some mysterious power controlling me. This time I said it, because I wanted to say it, because I wanted to tell my brother, because I needed him to know. And because, hell, I needed to say it while of sound mind, as though I had to have it out in the open, hear myself say it, to make it true. 

Sam looked at me from the passenger’s seat, and as I looked back I didn't find the shock I’d expected, or maybe horror or at least surprise. It was like he’d known, too, like we had some sort of connection between us that worked without words, which I suppose we have. He just looked at me as if he thought, _finally_. 

“Ain’t you gonna say anything?“ I asked after a moment, a little nervous. 

“Oh,“ he just made, looking back at the road. “Well, uh… good?“

“Is that a question?“

“Uhm,“ he made, shifting in his seat. “I don’t know. It _is_ good, right?“

“Yeah, I mean… I guess,“ I said, scratching the back of my head, flinching at the sharp pain as I remembered there was a wound there. I rubbed my eyes, feeling tired and excited at once, somehow entirely unhappy with my own response. I was acting like it was no big deal, like it was just another random thing that’d happened to me, like I didn't really care. 

“I think I’m in love with him,“ I said then, only quietly, almost whispering it, breathless somehow by realizing it, by only thinking it, by then even saying it out loud. I looked at Sam again, couldn't help the desperateness he clearly saw in my face, couldn't help but wonder why it’d been so hard to admit all that time, why I’d denied it so long, even to myself. “I’m in love with him, Sam.“

“We’ll find him, Dean.“

_________________

Coming home felt like losing the game. Seeing those familiar structures, walking the familiar hallways and rooms, it made it sink into me that this hunt had been a complete failure. We hadn’t saved anyone, we’d only lost people. 

I had been wanting to go home that whole time, but now that I was it felt like defeat. Because we _had_ been defeated. _For now_ , I tried telling myself, but couldn't yet believe in it. It felt so wrong to be here, I needed to be out there looking for Cas, saving him, if I still could. I should get him back, rescue him in a Hail Mary sort of way, come crashing in, guns blazing, killing that bitch for what she’d done, and Cas would be there and we’d hug each other. Then I’d tell him all the things I never dared to tell him, say what he needed to know, say what I’d never been man enough to put into words. 

But I had no idea how. Where they were, where she’d taken him, what she did to him and why. 

I stepped into the library, looking just like we’d left it, and eyed my Christmas tree. Eyed all the things I’d put on it, things I thought were funny, things that had some sort of memorable feeling to them. Like the bra of one beautiful girl I didn't even remember the name of, who’d given me the most amazing night what felt like eons ago. Now that I looked at it, I saw what Sam meant when he said it was inappropriate decoration. 

I stepped closer, running my fingers over the tree’s rich green needles, letting the tinsel curl around my fingers and breathing in the full scent of wintergreen and wood it still radiated. My hand found that little plastic angel and I smiled bitterly. It’d been a joke, and somehow also a peace offering to Cas, but now it was nothing but a painful reminder, a standing ovation to my own stupidness and to the horrible possibility that I might never see Cas’ exasperation over it again. 

I took it off the tree and went to my room. I locked the door behind me, because, yes, I knew Sam wouldn't like that, would think I was falling right back into the state I’d been in before this job. But he was wrong. I was in a whole different state right now. I didn't pity myself for being stupid enough to try something with Cas, give in to those feelings that had been nudging at me for years. I hated myself. 

We’d had a lot of rock bottoms throughout the time and each time we discovered that there was just another even rockier bottom underneath. 

My eyes took in my room, everything where it was supposed to be, and I just couldn't stand how ordinary it all was. Like nothing had happened. I couldn't just be back here, a place that hadn't seen all the violence and bloodshed I’d seen, and pretend that this was just a minor setback in a major fuck-up. 

The anger inside me rose, boiled up in me, that scream in my throat again that I hadn't yet let out, that I couldn't let out. I went over to my desk, nodding to myself as though I was giving myself permission, like I needed to accept it first before I could let it all out. Papers and pens and everything else resting on it came flying through the room and to the floor as I just swiped it all off in one fell swoop. 

But it wasn't enough. I took the wooden chair, smashed it against the desk, both broke into pieces and splinters in a loud crash that I hoped Sam couldn't hear. But even if he did, I didn't care. I threw things against the wall, knocked over every piece of furniture I could lay my hands on, kicked the drawer and smashed my nightstand lamp, damaged everything in my room like it was their fault. 

In the end I just sank to the ground, leaning against the end of my bed, my head in my hands. Tears came running out of me in rivers, burning down my cheeks. I didn’t know why I was so desperate, I didn’t know why I felt like I’d lost the fight, like it was done and over with and there was nothing else to do. Of course there was something to do, this wasn't the end, it wasn't all over. 

But it was _Cas_. 

I couldn't lose him. I’d never been able to picture my life without him ever since he’d walked into that barn and turned my whole belief system upside down. He was the one I shouldn't have to worry about, but he was still the one I somehow worried about the most. And it hit me that this wasn't just a phase, that I couldn’t keep telling myself that I could get it out of my system, either with time or by just doing something about it, like I only needed to taste it once and then I’d be over it. 

I’d never needed someone to be with, I’d always only needed family, but for the first time in a long time, I remembered what it was to be in love.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean drowns, Cas is still gone, and Sam is frustrated.

_* I want it all with you *_  
_______

It’d been almost two months since we’d returned to the bunker and there was still no trace of Carly or Cas. We had no leads, no idea what we were supposed to do, really, and the time ran by in a slow crawl, so slow it almost seemed like it had stopped entirely. 

At first, we’d buried ourselves in research, searched all the books for anything, every day, and every night we went to bed with nothing. I tried not to think about Cas too much, but that’s like trying not to breathe. Of course I thought about Cas. 

I wasn't made for love, I was made for war. I was born to fight evil and to save lives. And for a long time I’d done that with Cas by my side, with my best friend there who’d had my back through the apocalypse, and through Leviathans and the Darkness, through Purgatory, Hell, and Heaven. Who’d had my back even when I was corrupted by the Mark of Caine. Who’d been there for me, taken care of me, fought for me and because of me. Who’d lied to me, betrayed me even, and through all that, through all the steps of the way, he always came back to me. I’d always thought that’s enough. 

I wasn’t made for love, but in some screwed-up way it’s like Cas was made for me. 

Most people in this world feel guilty about being who they are. They want to please the people around them, seem cool and fun and like a great person altogether. They lie and adjust and sham their way through relationships. I’d never really understood that, I’d always just gone with being myself, was never ashamed of being a horny, hungry asshole who’d started out as Dad’s good little soldier and then continued shooting first and asking questions later. 

I was made to follow. If it were my father’s orders or the beliefs he’d raised us to believe in or my own desperate need for free will, there was always something I followed. 

He’d never really put it in straight words, but I liked to believe Cas was following me. He’d acted against everything he believed in, only to follow what I believed in, and something about that felt like a kind of love I’d never had before. Some part of me had known for a long time that he loved me, I just still didn’t know if it was the same kind of love. 

I still didn’t know what of all that’d happened was real and what was Carly’s impact. If he’d approached me and kissed me out of his own free will, or if Carly had made him. It was a disturbing thought that Cas might have nothing to do with it, might have been controlled, might have never wanted to do that. It was disturbing to think about how his lips never should have touched mine, never would have, to think that I might have just taken advantage of it. That I might have used Cas. That he might hate me now.

Two months is a long time to go without contact, to go without knowing what had happened to him and where he was, but I was fairly certain that I would simply know if Cas were dead. I was just so sure I’d feel it somehow, feel that he wasn't there anymore, that he couldn’t be found anymore. 

Carly must still have him in her claws, I tried to tell myself. I tried to believe he could still be saved, that I could find him, if only I’d figure out where. But reading books upon books didn't seem to help anything, there didn't seem to be any lore about a creature like her. 

It kind of made sense now, though. That case. I believed she was the one who’d had us chasing around after the wrong ideas, researching in all the wrong places and all the wrong directions, distracted and confused us by screwing with our heads and with the dead bodies, by putting bibles in their hands, faking a vampire bite, or cutting out a heart. She must have carved Croatoan into that wall, too, and she’d probably caused that whole dark cloud in the park messing with me to make me think it really was that Mala Hora thing she’d come up with.

She was good, I thought as I leaned back into my seat in the library and abandoned the book in front of me that didn't have any answer for me either. I took a long sip of my drink, giving her credit for a moment, for all the ways she’d thrown us off her scent. 

I was just sitting there, reminiscing and minding my own business, as Sam came in. He stopped in the doorway, just looked at me wordlessly, like he so often did now. A silence had grown in the bunker during these past weeks, caused by how entirely clueless and helpless we were. 

Sam nodded at me and took his seat across from me. There was a tiredness about him that I’d barely ever seen, dark circles under his eyes and his skin kind of dulled. 

“How’re you holding up?“ he asked for the millionth time. 

“I’m fine.“

He sighed, ran a hand through his hair, like I’d seen him do so often when he was frustrated with me. Then, “Would you just— stop with that whole strong silence thing? It’s crap.“

“What?“ I asked as I looked back up at him.

“I’m done, Dean. I’ve given you space and all, but I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself. You gotta talk to me.“

“You know what, back off, alright?“ I said, annoyed by how he always seemed to think he had to psychoanalyze me. “Just because I’m not caring and sharing like you want me to—“

“No, that’s not what this is about, Dean,“ he cut me off. “This isn't just anyone we’re talking about here, this is _Cas_. I know how you feel about him.“

“Cut the crap, Sam,“ I gave, running a hand over my face, ready to leave.

“Seriously, Dean. You don’t think I noticed long before you told me? You think I didn't notice the way you look at him? Or the way you act around him?“

“Stop it,“ I growled as I stood up, knocking my chair over. I wanted to throw something at him, wanted to punch it out of him, or maybe shout into his face how that was none of his business. How it didn't even matter anymore. It didn’t matter how I felt about Cas, because it didn't change anything about the fact that he wasn't here. That we hadn't managed to save him, that it’d been two months and we hadn't accomplished anything. No matter how I felt about him, and no matter how he felt about me, we’d lost him to some evil bitch, who did who knows what to him, and we still had no lead at all and no way of finding him.

No one could help us either. Rowena had tried some tracking spells, we had all kinds of people researching on the matter, we’d even tried getting something out of both demons and angels, every damn thing and person we could find, but no one knew what we were dealing with. No one fucking knew. 

Cas could be hurt, could be tortured and injured, he could die. And we were here, twiddling our thumbs, safe in the bunker, while he was out there waiting for someone to save him that never came. Our lives were just going on, while his could stop any minute. 

And I’d just given up.

_____________________

It was late when I finally dragged myself to my room. My head hurt by pretending to research for too many hours. Pretending, because, hell, who was I fooling here? There was nothing in those books, there was nothing we hadn't already tried. 

I sank onto my bed, running both my hands across my face. It felt strange. My skin felt drawn, the stubble had already grown to a full beard, my hair too long, too. My eyes felt dry and dead somehow, drained of all the green whenever I dared looking into a mirror. 

I started praying. Because that’s what I did every night, that’s what it’d come to. Sometimes I prayed to the universe, sometimes even to a god I knew didn't care, a god I didn’t really believe in but still somehow managed to hate. But most of the time I just prayed to Cas. I didn’t know if he could hear me, if there was just enough grace left in him to hear my desperate prayers. And if he did, I didn’t know if he even wanted to hear what I had to say. It was mostly just _Sorry_ s, apologies that had no real value, much like those on my broken phone. Sometimes I told him I was going to find him, that he needed to hold out for just a little longer, but not even I believed it. 

I’d come to a point where I didn’t believe in myself anymore. I didn’t believe in Sam and I didn’t believe we’d find a way this time. Maybe this time our constant stubbornness and motivation to pull and fight through, no matter what, wouldn’t be enough. Maybe this time Cas was gone for good. 

“Cas,“ I aspirated into the quiet of my room. “Cas, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.“

It was one of these nights, one where I couldn’t muster up any hope or ideas, where I couldn’t find anything else to say to him. I took a swing of my whiskey, and another one, the bitter liquid burning down my throat and reaching my empty stomach. It numbed me a little, gave me a little space inside that constant thinking and re-thinking. For a moment I felt free, freed from that burden on my heart that was slowly melting my inside, but when the nausea kicked in I was right back to being sorry. 

Such a neat little word. You can put all kinds of things into it, press it all down in to that one word, that one word people say so often it doesn’t even mean anything anymore. Sorry, I let you down. Sorry, you’re all alone. Sorry, I don’t come to save you. Sorry, I can’t do more. 

Sorry, that I gave up.

_________________

It was fairly early in the morning as I sat in the kitchen, drinking coffee. Sam seemed a little surprised to see me as he came in, probably because I barely ever was in the kitchen anymore. I just scuffled from my room to the library and back nowadays, switching between trying to research and trying to sleep. I never managed either. 

He opened the fridge and asked, “What you wanna eat for breakfast?“

I just shot him an annoyed look. He must know by now that I didn’t do breakfast anymore. I tried eating something every day, mostly around midnight when my stomach got too empty and too angry with me to ignore the hunger. But not until then, not until I could postpone eating for as long as possible. 

Everything tasted like carton to me now. No matter if it was take-away food Sam brought by, or a soup he warmed up for me, or whatever other food he tried coaxing me into eating. Sometimes I even ate it, if only to show him that I was fine. Sometimes I chose not to eat it to show him how I was really not. I didn’t even know what I wanted him to think anymore, didn’t know if I wanted his attention or wanted to be left alone. I just wanted it to be over. 

“So,“ he started, his back to me as he was preparing some eggs or whatever on the stove. “I was thinking—“

“Oh that can’t be good,“ I muttered into my mug. 

I couldn’t see his face, but his shoulders looked kind of annoyed, tense all the way through, like he was starting to really abhor my attitude. For a moment, I wondered how he managed to make preparing breakfast look so angry, but that thought got washed away like everything else that hadn’t to do with Cas. 

He turned around, spatula in hand like he was about to hit me with it, and threw me a look. “I found something last night.“

Something inside me stirred, that familiar urge to crack some joke, something along the line of, _I don’t wanna know about the things you do in your room at night_. But I just didn’t have it in me anymore. I didn’t comment. I said nothing, just kept sipping from my carton-flavored coffee. 

He came over to the table, dropped a plate of scrambled eggs in front of me and sat down with his own plate. They smelled like nothing. I looked down at them and they looked kind of good, but my mouth didn’t water, my stomach didn’t growl, my tongue wouldn’t taste them anyway. 

“Ain’t you gonna ask what I found?“ he asked, eying my still untouched plate and the way I didn’t even consider eating my breakfast. 

“You’re gonna tell me either way, so what’s the point?“ I gave gruffly, staring at some water stain on the wall behind him that I didn’t have any clue where it’d come from or how long it’d been there. 

Sam sighed onto his fork. “Well. I actually found us a case.“ He raised both his eyebrows in my direction like he was waiting for me to somehow get switched on all of a sudden. Like the prospect of hunting would somehow bring me back to life again, back to my old self. 

“Good for you,“ I just said.

“You wanna go?“ he asked, too much hope in his voice. “It’s vampires.“

He was a smart little thing, my brother. Of course he knew vampires had always been my favorite monsters to hunt. You track them easily, you always get a full nest of them and you get to chop off heads and fight those nasty things, the thrill of being bitten a constant adrenalin rush in your veins. There’s nothing like it, nothing that can take me that high. But not anymore. 

“I’ll pass.“

“Come on, Dean,“ Sam complained. “You don’t wanna do anything anymore.“

“That’s not true,“ I claimed weakly as I looked up at him. “I wanna wear my bathrobe all day and eat peanut butter at night. I wanna tell you to shut up. I wanna start drinking in the morning.“

He cocked his head and looked at me in that way he did when he’d had enough of my wisecracking and smartassing. 

But I didn’t want to go on a hunt. I didn’t want to go out there into the real world and save some poor bastards that would only remind me of how I hadn’t saved Cas. I didn’t want to risk my life on some stupid vampires, go hunting and pretend I still could, that I still should. 

Besides protecting Sam, Cas was the only thing I’d ever really wanted. The only thing I ever allowed myself to want. I wanted to see him, have him around. I wanted to cook for him, pick up the clothes he dropped everywhere because he’d learned from the best. I wanted to know how he felt, wanted to know what he hid. I wanted to take pictures with him, live with him, stare at his face and watch him sleep. I couldn’t just go out there and do my job like my life went on. Because it didn't go on. I was alive, I kept living, kept breathing, but it didn’t matter where I went, the only thing I wanted to do, the only thing I still lived for, was getting Cas back. And until I did that, there was nothing else that could get me out of this bunker. 

“You can go, if you want,“ I said after a moment. “I’m staying here.“

“Dean—“

“No, Sam. End of conversation. I’m not going anywhere.“

“You’re just gonna let me take care of this alone?“

I glanced at him, then something crept into my face that almost resembled a smile. “You’re a big boy. You can handle it.“

_________________

It was four days until Sam returned. He knocked on my door and didn't wait for me to say anything before he came in.

“You’re back early,“ I gave tonelessly from where I was seated on my bed.

“I had Donna and Jody help me,“ he stated, taking a look around, and by the expression on his face I could tell that he was probably aware of the stink in my room.

I wasn’t even ashamed anymore. I hadn’t showered in a long time, hadn’t cleaned up in here, my stale sweat and the half-eaten peanut butter sandwiches in various states of decay lying around mixing into something that must almost burn in his eyes, while I couldn’t even smell it anymore. 

“They asked me to tell you they’re sorry,“ Sam said after some minutes. 

That word again. Something about it kept making me angrier and angrier, and now that I heard it said into my face of all things, I couldn’t seem to keep that anger down anymore. They shouldn't be sorry for me, I didn’t deserve sorrys, I didn’t deserve pity. 

“Oh great,“ I spat sarcastically as I dug deep and mustered up a flicker of energy from the crater in my chest that was enough to get irritated. “Now I’m feeling so much better.“

“Dean—“

“What?“ I barked at him. “What can you possibly say that would make me feel better?“

“Nothing,“ he gave back, his voice quiet. “I know the only thing that can make you feel better is finding Cas.“

I looked at him, my eyes trying to make him stop.

“I know you’re not alright,“ he went on. “I know you feel like you lost him. Like there’s no hope. And I get it, okay? And I can do it, I can have enough hope for both of us, if you need me to.“

He sighed, and I just stared at him in silence. My anger vanished, was sucked out of me by how desperate he sounded, by how upset his eyes looked. That little spark of emotion I’d had a moment before, that first thing I’d really felt in a long time, that thing that wasn't self-hate or self-destruction or pure sadness and hopelessness, it was gone now, disappeared as quickly as it’d risen. 

Sam sighed again. “But this,“ he said, gesturing towards me, “this isn’t helping. It’s killing you, Dean. You gotta get up and start being a person again, or nothing will change. You can’t find Cas when you’re too busy drowning in alcohol and misery.“

“I can’t find him either way,“ I whispered, looking down at my hands. 

“Yes, you can, Dean. _We_ can. We _will_.“

I looked back up at him, knitted my brows. “You don’t know that. I mean, haven’t we tried everything? Haven’t we read every damn book there is?“

He remained silent, his face screwing up into a grimace of pity and sadness. 

“It’s been two months, Sam. I don’t think there’s much else to do.“ I looked away at my wall covered in shotguns and machetes I hadn’t used in so long they already gathered dust. “Maybe we should just give it up already.“

“Cas wouldn't give up,“ Sam said, and as I looked back at him he had his shoulders straightened, looked like he’d shaken off that brief moment where he’d fallen into the abyss that was my state of mind. Like he’d allowed himself to feel it for a second, then climbed right back out of it. “If it were you, Cas wouldn't give up looking for you.“

“Yeah, well. Maybe he’s stronger than me.“

“Please, Dean,“ he said, a despair in his voice that was hard to ignore. “ _Please_.“

It did something to me. I didn’t know where it’d been all that time, where he’d hidden it all those weeks, but there was that hold again he had on me, that hold that made it impossible for me to go on like this. I couldn’t handle him looking at me like this, I couldn’t handle when he started begging me, when he just _needed_ me to wake up from whatever passive, self-loathing deadness I was in. It’d taken me long, it’d taken so many bad days and even worse nights. It’d taken starving and neglecting myself and everything I am, but now, somehow, I couldn’t keep doing this. Sam needed me to be his brother again.

Cas needed me.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean cooks a burger, Sam goes running, and Cas says Dean's name.

_* As long as I’m here as I am, so are you *_  
__________

Grief can make a person less than they should be. I got that now. Even when Sam didn't entirely get what I was going through, didn't really understand what this did to me, he was right about one thing: Cas wouldn't give up. I’d allowed myself to drown in that hopelessness, to stop caring about myself, had allowed that the crater Cas had left inside me sucked me in enough to stop seeing a light at the end of this tunnel. 

How good I’d gotten at the proud Winchester tradition of Ignore It Till It Goes Away. I’d ignored that there was work to do, that Cas counted on me. For a long time, I’d just waited here, waited for a miracle to happen, waited, for some reason, for that familiar flutter of wings, an angel in a trench coat appearing out of nowhere, even though I knew that wouldn’t happen. Because neither could Cas still fly, even with his grace intact, nor did he still have that trench coat. It was stored in the Impala’s trunk, just like back when he’d swallowed all those Leviathans. Now the earth seemed to have swallowed him, but I would still keep that stupid trench coat, because I had that same stupid hope in me that he’d come back. 

I’d just been going through the motions, got up and put some caffein in my system to have enough strength to drag myself to the library, then opened some book and started reading without really comprehending the words. I stared at them without getting a grip on it, without being able to follow the sentences, my mind black and empty and still somehow occupied with picturing Cas’ death. Sometimes you just want to go where it’s dark.

I was still desperate, still thought that if we could just take out this latest brand of evil, just get our world back on track one last time, we’d get that happy ending. But in all the books that had no answer, in all the leads we didn't have, I just hadn’t seen a way.

But there was something new inside me now, a new kind of hope that had nothing to do with myself and everything to do with Sam. He’d somehow dragged me out of this crater, pulled me out of the deadness, he’d reached me in a way I couldn't even reach myself. Sometimes my smiles even managed to go a little deeper than my lips now. I could feel it again, I could hope again. I even ate again.

This morning, I’d gotten up and I’d somehow known this day would be different. I was standing in the kitchen now, dressed not in my bathrobe and joggers that I’d worn for weeks without washing them but in clean clothes and freshly showered. I was cooking myself a burger. It was only a small win, but not any less important. And I just couldn't stand all that grass eater crap Sam had made me anymore.

I was just smiling to myself by the scent of grilling meat rising into my nostrils, as Sam walked into the kitchen. I could feel him staring at my back, probably with some kind of wonder in his face.

“You’re cooking,“ he stated the obvious. 

“You have irises, right?“ I gave back, my back still to him. “And pupils and optic nerves? One might even say you have a pair of eyes.“

I turned my head and caught his frown. “Yeah, I’m cooking,“ I said, tone annoyed but my half smile gave it away that I wasn't really. 

Sam went to the fridge and grabbed a beer. He leaned against the counter and studied me, probably trying to figure me out again. “You finally cleaned up your room, too,“ he said, apparently Captain Obvious today. 

“What were you doing in my room?“

“Nothing,“ he claimed innocently. “I just went in because I thought you were there. I see you showered, too.“

I turned to him. “Alright, I get it. You’re a true mystery solver today. Quit analyzing me, Sam. I showered, I cleaned up, I cook. Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Sherlock.“

He threw me a bitch face. “You still didn’t shave.“

“Oh, you’re _good_ ,“ I jeered. 

“You know,“ he said, “if it was me, I’d never hear the end of it from you.“

“That’s because I’m the handsome one, Sammy,“ I gave with a smirk. “You can’t pull off a beard, it’d just confuse everyone, you know? Cause it’d distract from all that fabulous hair.“

“You’re just jealous,“ he gave, beaming at me, and for the first time in what felt like ages, I huffed out a low sound that might actually count as a laugh. Then he said, “But I’m glad you’re back, Dean,“ and clapped on my back. 

_____________________

“Here,“ Sam sad as he handed me a bottle of beer and sat down across from me. 

The library was dipped in the warm light of a single lamp on the table. It was late and the day had been strangely exhausting. After barely having moved during those past weeks my muscles started shaking with only a small thing like taking a shower or standing upright in front of the stove for too long. It was like I’d really been dead and now I needed to learn to walk again. But even when my body didn't seem quite ready yet, my mind was as awake as ever. 

“What are you doing?“ Sam asked.

“Research,“ I answered absent-mindedly, my eyes fixed on the laptop screen in front of me. I wasn't really sure what I was looking for, didn't really get anywhere with the random search of different things. I’d thought I’d try figuring this out by finding explanations for the things Carly could do separately, but they made even less sense alone than together. 

“Maybe you should get some rest, Dean. It’s late,“ he said, giving me a look of concern I didn't really get. He should be glad I was up and about again, that I was back in the game again. That I _did_ something. 

“I can rest when I got Cas back.“

“Look,“ Sam started anew, “I want him back just as much as you do—“

“I doubt that,“ I threw in without looking up from the screen. 

“Whatever. But you gotta sleep at some point. A few hours won’t be the end of the world.“

“I don’t get you, Sam,“ I stated as I looked back at him. “I thought you wanted me to work on this again. And now that I do, you still find something to complain about?“

He sighed. “What d’you think it’s good for, when we do actually find him and you’re not at full strength?“ he gave back, his brows rising. “And Cas wouldn't want you to strain yourself so much you pass out.“

“Don’t you speak for him,“ I warned. “Just— don’t. I gotta do this, Sam. Just let me do my damn job.“

“Look, I’m just worried that—“ His phone started buzzing in his pants then and he drew it out. He stared at the display for a moment, frowned at me. Then he picked up. “Yeah?“

In no more than a second his expression changed from curious to alert. He put the phone on speaker and set it on the table between us. I didn't recognize the number, but it said the call came from Minnesota. 

_“Hey, boys,“_ the voice from the phone said, and I instantly recognized it as Carly’s. 

Every muscle of my body tensed at once, an anger rising inside me, a long forgotten emotion that was more than two months old but felt as fresh as day. “Carly,“ I said, my voice dark. 

“Where are you?“ Sam got straight to the point. 

_“Well, I’m sure you boys will figure that out on your own sooner or later anyway.“_

“What do you want?“ I growled. 

_“I just wanted to check in with you guys.“_

“That’s nice,“ I spat. “Why don’t you come over, we’ll have a tea party and catch up.“

 _“Funny,“_ she gave. _“How’re you two doing?“_

“What do you care?“ I asked. 

_“I’m not a monster, Dean. I still care about you,“_ she claimed. I huffed. 

“Where’s Cas?“ Sam had the mind to ask what I’d somehow forgotten over my anger, though with a vague casualness in his voice that seemed a little too laid-back to me. 

_“Oh, he’s here with me.“_

“What did you do to him?“ I asked, not sure I really wanted to know. I exchanged a brief look with my brother, maybe for emotional support, maybe just to make sure he was still there with me. 

_“He’s fine,“_ she said. Then there was a quiet rattle in the line and after a moment I heard a kind of breathing that clearly wasn’t hers and almost made my heart stop. 

_“Dean,“_ his low voice said.

“Cas!“ I nearly shouted into the phone as I skyrocketed out of my seat and leaned over the table. My heart pounded so loud in my head I barely heard what she said next.

 _“Like I said,“_ Carly said again, Cas gone from the line. _“He’s fine.“_

“What did you do to him?“ I asked again, voice strained with anger. 

_“Don’t worry, I fully intend to give him back.“_

_Don’t worry?!_ I thought hysterically. I so badly wanted to hear Cas again, hear that voice again that seemed to have been the last straw it needed to bring me back to life. Something inside me resonated with it, something that recognized the familiar gravel in his voice, and everything that voice was to me, everything that voice made me feel. It switched something on in my head, fired memories across my mind, thundered through me, as though the only thing I’d needed to get back on track was that he said my name. Cas was alive.

“Listen to me, you _bitch_ ,“ I snarled. “I’m gonna find you and then I’m gonna kill you. You hear me?“

 _“Dean!“_ she gave in mock surprise, _“Mind your blood pressure, sweetie. You’re not gonna kill me just because I borrowed your angel for a hot second, are you?“_

“Watch me,“ I shot back. “I killed monsters for much less. And I’m gonna take my time with you, bitch. I’m gonna do it nice and slow and bloody.“

She chuckled, but even through the phone I could hear a little uneasiness in her voice. She was scared. _Good_ , I thought. She should be scared. No one just took Cas from me and walked away alive. 

“Also,“ I continued, a numbing calm suddenly settling inside me, “you eradicated a whole town.“

She laughed again, this time much more confident. _“I didn’t.“_

“What?“ Sam chimed in. 

_“Boys.“_ She clicked her tongue. _“Two months and you didn't think to check that? I gotta say, I’m a little disappointed.“_

“What are you talking about?“ I asked, frowning at Sam. 

_“Your precious little town is fine,“_ she said. The fact that she had Cas in captivity and that she was responsible for what must be hundreds of deaths really made me wonder about her definition of “fine“. _“They’re all back to normal. Well, except the ones that didn’t make it, of course.“_

“I’m gonna kill you,“ I said again, like she hadn’t heard me the first time.

 _“Alright, this was nice,“_ she said after some minutes of silence. _“I’m glad you two are still your dear old selves. Gotta go now. Byeeee.“_

With that the connection was cut, leaving Sam and me behind like two ditched prom dates. She might have messed with us, might have fooled us and fucked us over, might have successfully mocked us with that call, but there was one thing she’d screwed up: now we had her location. And even when it was only the state, about eighty-seven-thousand square miles of possible hiding places, it was closer to any lead we’d had ever since we’d started looking for her. It was a start.

__________________

I’d always thought it’s nice of monsters to make themselves vulnerable to such everyday things like salt or iron. And even the ones reacting to silver weren’t really a challenge anymore. You roll into town, find out what kind of bad you’re up against, by a bite or a missing heart or EMF or sulfur, then you go kill that sucker.

They were always so easy to identify with their fangs and claws and typical MO. After years and years of experience we barely ever encountered anything we didn't know our way around anymore. Sure, it was still dangerous to go after them, you always ended up in a fight one way or another, but we knew what we’d signed up for. 

I’d never signed up for this crap, though. I’d been looking for answers for days now, mostly alone in the scarcely lit library or in my bed at night when I couldn't sleep. But I just didn't find any clue on Carly’s whereabouts and whatabouts, which was mostly because I didn’t know anything about her. If I hadn’t been too wrapped up in my own drama, I could have paid more attention to her. Then again, Sam didn’t seem to know too much about her either, and he’d been spending almost every second of the day with her. 

But at some point, I’d remembered something. I didn't know if it was important, but as I’d been thinking about that one thing that all monsters had in common, namely their habit of sticking to their own coded reliable course of actions and the things that distinguished them from humans, I remembered that tattoo behind Carly’s ear. 

It could be nothing, just some random ink on skin, but something about it alerted my gut feeling. It was some sort of eye-shaped symbol, looked pretty ancient, too, but it wasn’t easy to identify. 

I was scrolling through a boatload of pictures on the internet, trying to find that damn symbol, as Sam came strolling in with yet another beer. I didn’t know why he played my beer butler lately, why he kept feeding me with it, but I didn’t really complain either. 

“You got anywhere during the past ten hours?“ he asked, sounding like he didn't really saw the point in what I was doing. 

I looked up at him, he was in his running clothes, and I distantly wondered how he had any mind for fitness these days. “You noticed that tattoo of hers?“ 

“Which one?“ he asked. 

I remembered he’d seen her naked, smiled to myself a little. “The one behind her ear, you pervert.“

“Ah yeah. What about it?“

“I don’t know yet,“ I gave as I focused back on my laptop. “I feel like it’s a clue.“

Sam was silent for a while, but then he made a humming sound, some sort of idea dawning in his face. He went over to the cabinet, rummaged in the files there. I stopped my scrolling, watched him flick his fingers through it, until he pulled one out. 

“What?“ 

“Now you mentioned it I remembered reading about something like it.“ He opened the file as he sat down at the table again, his eyes scanning the pages. 

“You mind elaborating?“ I gave after some minutes, starting to get impatient. 

“In the forties, the Men of Letters investigated a group that worked as some kind of therapists at the time.“

“Why? What did they do?“ I threw in.

“Nothing. It was more about how they did it,“ he gave back, his eyes still in the folder. “It says here these people managed to tap into their clients’ emotional sphere and find the problem at hand. They were also said to be able to change people’s emotions, like— like they could, for instance, erase certain feelings or put in new ones.“

“And you couldn't have remembered that weeks ago?“ I asked, a little irritated. 

He looked up at me, all innocent. “It just didn’t cross my mind.“

“So what, they were some sort of psychics then?“ I asked. 

“They were empaths, Dean. And not just regular ones either. The Men of Letters found out that those empaths had emphatic levels about fifty times as high as a normal sensitive person. And they joined forces and founded this…“

“Cult,“ I finished. 

“No, not a cult. More like an organization to help people, actually. The Men of Letters categorized them as absolutely harmless and… human. “Non-supernatural“ it says here.“

“Yeah, right,“ I said, shaking my head to myself. “As if people who can mess with other people’s heads could ever be harmless.“

“The Men of Letters investigated and watched them for years, Dean. They never found anything evil about them. Anyway, this,“ he said and turned the folder to show me a picture, “was their identification mark.“

The old black-and-white photo was a little blurry, but it definitely showed the exact same symbol Carly had tattooed behind her ear. Harmless my ass. It seemed like the dudes working this bunker in the forties had missed a little something here and there, because as far as I saw it, Carly was pure manipulative evil and needed to be taken out. 

“So, you’re saying these guys were like— like the opposite of Sam Bot?“

“What?“ 

“You know, when you didn't have your soul? No empathy and all?“

“Right,“ he said. “I guess you could put it that way, yes. See, you gotta picture them like absolutely aware of everyone’s emotions. They’re able to feel other people’s feelings like they were their own, they can understand people on a whole different level. They’re clairsentient, if you will. It’s like a sixth sense.“

“You sound like you’re a fan,“ I remarked.

He frowned at me. “No, I’m— I just think it’s kinda amazing, you know.“

I didn’t really buy it. I wasn't sure what that was about, why it’d taken him so long to figure this out when normally he was the poster boy of sudden brilliant ideas. The only thing I was sure about was that Carly could be amazing all she wanted, above all she was a threat. And I would take care of her.

____________________

The next day, I felt like I was finally getting up on my feet again. I’d been too nervous to sleep, too eager to finally get that bitch, but after two and a half months I would finally get Cas back. I knew where she was now, or at least in which state, I knew what she was now, knew that I’d only need my gun and some simple bullets to kill her. She was human after all, but no less of a monster. 

I couldn't even begin to imagine what she’d been doing to Cas all that time, but he was alive, that was all that mattered. In that prayer of last night I hadn’t been hopeless anymore, hadn't plastered it with sorrys and empty apologies. I’d told him I’d come, that I was on my way. That it’d be over soon. 

So, now I was packing my stuff, guns and some knifes for good measure, a bottle of whiskey for the nerves, and for some reason my broken phone, too. I already had a new one, but something made me keep the old one, something made me save it like some sacred treasure. I took it everywhere, always had it in my pocket, as though I needed to feel it was still there to have a reminder of how stupid I’d been. So I wouldn't be that stupid in the future. It was like a warning to myself, and I held onto it like to a safety blanket. 

When I was almost finished, already in my boots and jacket, Sam entered my room. He remained in the doorway, watching me like he was trying to figure out what made me run this time. Even though it should be horribly obvious. 

“What are you doing?“ he asked. 

I stopped packing and straightened up. “I’m packing, Captain obvious.“

“For what?“

“What d’you mean for what? We’re leaving in ten, go get your stuff.“ I ordered and turned back to my duffel. But Sam didn't move an inch, just crossed his arms and looked at me like I was out of my mind. I paused again. “What are you waiting for?“

“Dean,“ he sighed. “I get that you need to get to him as soon as possible, but—“

“No but, Sam,“ I cut him off. “We’re going.“

“You don’t even know where to look.“

I stopped completely now, turned to him. “I’m not an idiot, Sam. I called Rowena, she thinks she found a spell to track them, now that it’s narrowed down a little.“

“And you think that’ll work?“ he asked with clear doubt in his voice. 

“I don’t know, okay? But I gotta try.“

“Look,“ he said, sighing again. “I just don’t want you to rush into this, alright?“

I frowned. Only a few days ago he’d claimed he wanted to find Cas as bad as I wanted, claimed that Cas was his friend, even made me stop destroying myself and start working again. But now I more and more got the feeling that he didn’t want me to leave. Like the way he kept busying himself with anything but research, the way he kept giving me beer without asking, the way he always made me go to bed earlier than I would have gone myself. More and more, I got the feeling that all that wasn't his way of coping, not even his way of taking care of me, but only a strategy to keep me from figuring this out. 

“Are you feeling okay?“ I asked after a moment of eying him. 

He knitted his brows. “Yeah, sure. Why d’you ask?“

I made a step towards him, trying to find something in his face to clue me off. “Because lately I feel like you don’t even wanna find Cas.“

“What?“ he made, his voice a little too off to not be faking it. 

“Yeah,“ I gave thoughtfully, taking more steps until I was right in front of him. I took a deep breath, tried to steel myself for what I was about to accuse him with. “Are you sabotaging this?“

“What, no! Of course not!“ he claimed. “I wanna find Cas as much as you do.“

“Yeah, you keep saying that, but it doesn’t really feel like you do.“

“Dean. You’re crazy if you think—,“ he started, all kinds of nervous ticks about him. I knew him better than anyone, I knew when he was lying to me. “Of course I wanna find Cas.“

“Alright,“ I said, fixing his eyes. “Then let’s go.“

“Dean,“ he said again for what felt like the millionth time, like saying my name over and over again would somehow make me change my mind. “Let’s not rush this. We gotta be smart about it, alright? We can’t do this half-assed and make it even worse.“

“Sam, it’s been _weeks_ ,“ I gave as I turned around. “God knows what Cas has been through!“

“Cas is gonna be fine,“ he said as if it was clear as day. 

“You don’t know that!“

“Yes, I do,“ he countered. “She promised me she wouldn’t hurt him.“

I froze. His face told me he hadn't meant to say that, that it’d just slipped out of him. Something in my chest clenched painfully. I could barely swallow, let alone breathe through the sudden anger rising inside me. Then I managed to say something, only quietly, only barely containing the bruising feeling burning through my lungs by the betrayal I hadn’t thought I’d ever feel again. “Did you _know_ she’d take him?“

Sam seemed shocked, but I couldn’t tell whether it was because I’d figured it out or because of the thing itself. “She uh… she—,“ he stammered, looking anywhere but me. “She might have mentioned something like that.“

I nodded towards the ground, smiled bitterly at how I’d been screwed with yet again. How I hadn’t even known the depths of how much she was screwing with me, that she’d even got my brother to work against me. I whispered, “I thought we were past lying to each other.“

I looked up, caught Sam’s expression that looked kind of hurt but also looked kind of not, then wordlessly punched him in the face. He deserved it, he totally did. 

“Dean, I—“ he started. 

“Are you still under her spell?“ I asked. 

“I don’t— I don’t think so.“

“So you lied to my face why?“ I barked. 

“I don’t— I just—“

I stopped his miserable stammering with a raised hand, then turned back to my duffel. I was disappointed, of course I was. I felt betrayed like I hadn't in a long time. Through all those weeks I’d thought that at least I had my brother there with me, to support me, to help me get Cas back. Even when I’d stayed in my room all day and walked back to the library in the middle of a sleepless night, even when I hadn't talked for three days and rejected every food Sam put in front of me, I’d never felt alone in this. I’d still had my brother to keep me vaguely upright, to keep me vaguely on track, to pull through this ordeal with. 

Sam had gone behind my back several times in our lives, but for the first time I wasn't ready to give in to the threatening urge to turn my back on him, metaphorically, not literally. I realized that, under a spell or not, real betrayal or only Carly’s hocus-pocus, he still was the only back-up in town. I knew I needed him and I’d rather have him than not. Despair makes you forget about the most horrible things.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean has a meltdown, Cas is blasted away, and Sam bleeds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's one chapter following after this one. Thanks so much for reading and to those who took the time to comment and leave kudos! :)

_* Losing only teaches you to not take things for granted *_  
________

Sometimes when I sit still for a moment and there’s nothing else to do while I’m driving my car down the highway, my brain goes into that weird state where it tries to get order into my chaotic mind. I think and think and think and I debate with myself, I try to find explanations, excuses, truths. But in the end, even with all that soul-searching, I never really come to any conclusions. 

I was in that state right now. Sam sat shotgun and he was awfully quiet, which could only mean that he knew I was too pissed to speak to. He was watching the scenery of Kansas flying by, every once in a while his eyes would drop to his lap, and I wondered if he found any conclusions where I didn’t. Any solution to this latest lie towering between us like the great wall of brotherly betrayal. 

I don’t even remember how often that saying made sense in our life, _the road to Hell is paved with good intentions_. I was sure that that’s what this was about, good intentions. I needed to believe that Sam really didn't want to see Cas hurt, that it was all Carly in his head, or that he’d done what he’d thought would cause the least damage, and maybe he was right. But being right doesn't forgive doing wrong. 

Hours went by in silence, I didn't even feel like listening to music, and the air between us seemed to get thicker and thicker. That’s what it always does, after all. He was probably looking for ways to apologize and defend his actions, while I was just looking for ways to keep myself from punching him in the face. 

At some point, somewhere near the border to Minnesota, I couldn't do it anymore. I was stewing in the bitter taste of my own anger and disappointment and I just needed an out for it. I needed an explanation. I needed a fight. 

So I stopped the Impala on the side of the road and turned to Sam.

He raised his brows, looked like he was debating on whether to flee or to look as innocent as possible, all the while with a big fat question mark in his face that wanted me to start exploding or leave it be altogether. 

“You gotta look at me, man,“ I started, fairly civil and almost calm. “You look me in the eye and tell me you didn't let this happen out of your own thinking.“

“Dean, I— I honestly can’t tell,“ was the only answer I got. 

I honestly couldn't tell either. Apart from the fact that Sam wasn't normally the type to run after a girl like that, or even any girl at all, for that matter, I hadn't seen any changes in his behavior while under Carly’s influence. Though, he sure seemed to always end up with monsters. It was almost hilarious at this point, ironic maybe, a theme throughout his life that was almost too predictable to be funny. Not at all funny, though, was his sympathies for monsters. Maybe it was because of how he’d felt like a monster himself, like he didn’t belong with something so dark and evil inside him as demon blood and his destiny to be the meat suit of Satan himself. But no matter how conflicted inside, how desperate to prove himself, I saw it, but I never comprehended his will to defend monsters. 

I nodded to myself, disappointed with what I got, because I’d hoped at least he would know. I’d hoped it hadn't been my brother who’d thrown Cas to some bitch without even thinking about what she’d do to him and then lied to me and kept me in the belief that she’d screwed with both of us, and not just with me. 

“So then it was just you making another stupid decision,“ I stated more than asked. 

I didn’t wait for his answer, if he even had one, just started the car again and drove off, satisfied with the thought of having hurt him with those words. Transfer a little of that hurting just so I wasn't the only miserable idiot around. But it didn't even matter right now. I needed to stow away my anger at him, focus on the task of getting Cas back and swallow all that crap for a while until I had the time and mind for a conflict with my brother. We could have this fight later. 

_______________________

We were walking through a town in Minnesota, not unlike the one all this crap had started in, a little bigger maybe. After some intense spell work and a lot of witty comments on how we owed her big time, Rowena had pinned the location down to an actual address. I was tense. The prospect of an upcoming fight drastic in my every cell, while I was still unsure which side my brother was on, my anger not yet ebbed away or anywhere near forgotten. For all I knew, he could have been in on the whole thing, could have known from the start that Carly was behind everything. It could backfire on me, bringing him here.

“Sam,“ I said as the uneasiness inside me was urgent enough to stop in my tracks. “I need to know if you’re with me.“

His brows rose, his eyes lacking understanding. “I’m here. I’m coming with you, Dean.“

“No, that’s not what I mean,“ I said, looked down to the ground. “I mean, are you _with_ me.“

“Of course,“ he claimed. 

I looked back up at him, searched his face, trying to find honesty in it. “You get that we’re not just here to save Cas. That I’m gonna take her out. Right?“

“Uh, yeah,“ he gave with a frown. “What are you trying to say?“

“I’m just not—“ I scratched my jaw, sighed. “I’m not sure you’ll shove when push comes.“

“What d’you mean?“

I swallowed, looked at him and his clueless face, the words trying to escape my mouth physically hurting me. We’d been through so much, him and I, it was painful to doubt him, painful to even think it. “I’m not sure you’re on my side in this, Sammy. I’m not sure I can trust you anymore.“

His eyes turned sad and miserable, and somehow I was glad they did, because it meant he still cared. It meant parts of him were still the Sam I could count on, the Sam that hadn't stabbed me in the back. Maybe the Sam that hadn't been manipulated by some broad like it was time for a remake of the Ruby Show. 

“I’m with you,“ he said, almost solemnly, drawing in a harsh breath like he was swearing to himself he was. 

I nodded, chose to believe him for lack of any other choice, then started walking again. 

It wasn't long until we found the building in question, some old house in a street that looked suburbia-like. White picket fences and neatly trimmed front yards all around, some left over Christmas decorations here and there, even when Christmas lay way back. The crisp March air stung in my face, but the beginning spring already swung in the air as I steeled myself for the rescue mission that I realized we hadn’t at all planned out.

I drew my gun as we circled the house, all the windows shielded with drawn curtains. Not a sound came from inside as we walked a beeline to the back. We broke in through the backdoor easily, but my pounding heart and fast breathing indicated how I should still be alert. It couldn't be that easy. It never was. 

We sneaked inside with quiet steps, tiptoed our way through an empty dim living room. The interior was old, some pieces looked antique even, like some old granny had furnished this house. Flowery wallpaper and golden lamps, delicate china in the cabinets and, ironically, an impressive collection of porcelain angels sitting on top of the chimney and the windowsills. 

The angel we were here for was nowhere in sight, though, so we ventured on silently, hand gestures and mouthed words our only communication. Normally, this was the point where we’d split up to cover the grounds more quickly, and Sam suggested as much, but I couldn't bring myself to let him go off alone. I’d rather have him by my side, not out of my sight, rather watched him in case he just looked for a chance to warn Carly. 

If she was here. So far, there was no sign anyone was here, no sounds, no light switched on, even though it was pretty dark inside the house for the lack of daylight getting in. I decided to go upstairs first, Sam right behind me, the old wooden stairway creaking under our boots with every step. 

Even when it appeared like no one was home, something inside me just knew he was here. My chest clenched with a familiar sensation, a feeling I always got when Cas was near. Was it because of our _profound bond_ , as he liked to call it, or because of something else, I’d probably never know, but I sensed his presence the same way I could sense temperature. I always tried not to think about it too hard, but I knew that it was real, a real thing.

By now, I trusted that feeling, let it lead me to him, followed its call like a magnet followed magnetic pull. It led me to a door on the right of a long corridor on the first floor, and my heart hammered behind my rips like an alarm system as my free hand turned the knob.

I opened the door to a small bedroom clad in beiges and whites, only modestly furnished. My eyes found him right away. He was sitting on the bed, his back to me, looking out of the window. He was sitting so still he could have been a statue, if it wasn't for his slow breathing, his hands folded in his lap and still wearing the clothes I’d last seen him in. 

I lowered my gun, slowly stepped towards him. “Cas?“ I whispered into the room. I stopped next to him at the foot of the bed. He didn't move, didn't at all react to me, only kept staring out the window like I wasn't even there. I threw a look to Sam who’d stopped in the doorway, but he only shrugged, so I went closer, kneeled down in front of Cas and looked up into his stiff face. 

“Cas?“ I repeated, a little louder, my hand settling on his knee. That was when he finally reacted, wearisome and weary, as though he was waking from a bad dream. He looked more tired than I’d ever seen him, haggard and agitated inside and out.

He cocked his head and drew his brows together. “Dean?“ he breathed, his voice broken and barely audible. 

“Yeah, Cas. I’m here.“ I tried to smile, but failed somewhere along the way, squeezed his knee by way of assurance. “We’re gonna get you out of here.“

He just looked at me, neither relieved nor excited, just blankly, as though he didn't understand what I’d just said, like he couldn't grasp the concept of being freed. It was strange seeing him like this, so completely unfunctioning and cut off from whatever usually drove him. His eyes recognized me, but it was like he didn't know where he was and what he was and what being alive even meant. He looked like Cas, but he didn't look at me like Cas. 

I stood back up and held my hand out for him to take it. We could deal with whatever Carly had done to him when we were back home, could figure out how to turn him back into himself when all this was over. 

But that was when it turned out not to be that easy. As Cas hesitantly took my hand and pulled himself upright, my eyes fixed so hard on him as though I feared I’d lose him again, if I looked away for just a second, I heard Sam gasp and drop to the floor. My head snapped up and I found Carly in the doorway, standing over Sam with a content smile. 

I let go of Cas, both my hands around my gun, aiming it at her. I wouldn't let her win this time, wouldn’t let her take Cas again. I’d shoot her, kill her before anyone else would get hurt, before she could hurt Cas again. After all, nothing says love like a loaded gun. 

Her smile grew wider. Her eyes beamed like she was happy to see me. I wondered if she’d known, if she’d expected us, wondered if this whole operation had been doomed from the start. Who knew what she could do, what powers she had. 

My finger positioned on the trigger, my eyes never leaving hers. But it wasn't only that I wanted to look her in the eyes when I’d kill her, wanted to watch the life seep out of them the way she did with her victims. I couldn't look away. I couldn't pull the trigger either. My hands started shaking as they fought the urge to drop the gun, her look all the while fixing me so hard it almost hurt. 

Her hold on me got stronger and stronger, but I could resist it. I could fight it, I vowed inwardly. She made a step towards me and my grip on the gun tightened. 

“Don’t you dare touch me, you freak,“ I barked through gritted teeth. 

She laughed, stopped. “I don’t need to touch you to get what I want, sweetie.“

I frowned. I could feel her effect on me, could feel the strings of her power piercing into my mind, stronger than I’d ever felt it. It was obvious now that she’d been holding back all that time, that she was capable of so much more. It had never been her touch that influenced me, I started to understand. 

Everything inside me told me to drop the gun, my muscles straining against my own will, controlled by whatever force she was forcing on me, and I shook harder and harder, my entire body quivering with resistance. It was too hard. Too impossible.

“I’m impressed,“ she stated. Then I felt more invisible tendrils of energy enter my head, tangible in every cell, corrupting my every move. 

I groaned. I couldn't let her win, but I couldn't win against her either. I fought hard, but ultimately I lost control. My gun dropped to the ground, just as I dropped to my knees, all will leaving my body. I’d given my all, my best, but she was too strong. She walked past me as I glimpsed to find Sam unconscious on the floor next to me, and that was the last thing I saw before I passed out.

__________________

My eyes opened to a dark cold floor. Even when it felt like some serious deja-vu moment, there wasn't any blood on me this time, and I wondered why it’d needed a hit on the head last time when she was capable of knocking me out with a mere thought. I sat up, took in what little I could see of my surroundings. 

It was dark, moist and dirty. There was no window but one small barred hole, no door that I could see, nothing but the wet floor, four concrete walls, and a stretch of iron bars cutting through the room. When we’d come here, I’d thought this was just some old lady’s house that Carly was occupying, who’d have thought this place had a dungeon in the basement.

I heard a groan somewhere near, figured it was Sam waking up. “Sam?“

“Dean?“

I heard him crawl closer, the moonlight coming in through the tiny window right beneath the ceiling letting me make out his face. 

“You alright?“ I asked. 

He nodded. “You?“

“Yeah.“

I stood up, blindly tried to feel out how much space there was, then walked over to the wall with the barred window, but it was too high up to look out of. There was nothing in this cell but some dirt, there wasn't even a door on the bars, no way of getting out. I wondered how she’d got us inside here, concluded that there must be a hidden entrance somewhere. But I couldn't find it. 

A while went by as I checked out the room, but eventually I sat down next to Sam, leaned against the cold wall. We were screwed. We hadn't been careful enough. I thought maybe Sam had been right after all, maybe we really should have done more research on what Carly was and made an actual plan before rushing here. I’d jumped into this, stupid enough to think I’d just shoot her and it’d be over without thinking for a second about the fact that she controlled people and everything else around her. 

“Dean, I’m sorry,“ Sam said into the silence. 

I turned to him. “For what?“

He sighed painfully, his expression looked like an open wound. “I let you down again.“

“What are you talking about? She came at you from behind, it happens to the best of us. Don’t worry about it.“

“No,“ he said, looked down. “I mean I let you down. I… I really believed, deep in her core, Car’s a good person. I trusted her. I don’t know if that was all her, or… I don’t know. But I really thought…“

I waited a moment, watched him struggle with himself, try to find the words, but it didn't look like he would. I could feel he was being honest, that he’d never meant to hurt anyone, never meant for this to happen. And after all, he was my brother. He’d let me down multiple times, and I’d let him down just as much. Our life was so fucked up that he’d even forgiven me something like chasing him through the bunker, trying to kill him with a hammer. My rage always burned bright and high, but it never stayed long when it came to Sam.

“Well, I don’t like being lied to. But it’s alright, Sammy.“

He exhaled. “You only say that because you have someone else to turn to instead of me. Which I guess always makes it easier for you to tolerate what a disappointment I am. Now that you have Cas—“

“Okay,“ I stopped him. “One: in what universe do _I_ have Cas?“ I threw him a weak smile, trying to lighten up the mood a little. “And two: don’t you say that, Sam. Not that again. I know I’ve turned my back on you before, but we’re past that. You hear? And you’re not a disappointment. You’re my brother, and nothing will ever change the way I feel about you.“

He nodded, sighed. “Thanks.“

“Not for that. I can’t help it, you know? I think I’m just programmed this way.“ I smiled.

He smiled back. Then, “What do we do now?“

“No freaking clue.“

_____________________

Hours went by. I’d started to pull at the bars with everything I had, kicked them, and hit them with my bare fists until my skin cracked open. We were trapped like animals, the night already falling. I needed to get out of here. I needed to save Cas. 

“Dean, what are you doing?“ Sam asked at some point, still sitting on his lazy ass. 

I turned, found him with his absolutely unacceptable surrender face all over his features. “Isn’t it obvious?“

He sighed. “I get what you’re trying to do, alright? We’re gonna get out and we’re gonna get to Cas and we’re gonna get him out of here—“

“Yeah, okay. So what are we talking about?“

“The plan,“ he emphasized. 

“We have a plan. It’s the same plan as it’s always been. In order to get out we go through. Kill the monster, save the damsel, then haul ass back home.“

“And?“ he said. “How is that working so far?“

“Instead of criticizing me you could help me, you know.“

He stood up and ran a hand through his hair, and for a moment there I thought he actually would. But then he just looked at me, looked at the bars keeping us captive, then scratched his cheek. I could see ten kinds of comebacks in his face, probably all about how what I was doing didn’t work and wouldn’t work, but he said nothing. 

“We can’t save Cas, if we’re stuck in some dungeon in the basement of Mr Rogers’ neighbor Queen Bitch,“ I said.

“Yeah, I get that,“ he gave. “But even if we get out of here, what are we gonna do?“

“What d’you mean? We’re gonna save Cas and kill her.“

“Okay,“ he answered, little convincing. “And how d’you plan to do that?“

“Well. Right now, I’m fantasizing about skinning her alive, but I guess shooting’s the best option.“ I raised my brows, confused that I had to explain every little detail like he was nine years old and I had to teach him hunting all over again. “You have any better ideas, Sherlock? Any further concerns you’d like to discuss?“

Bitchface. “I’m just trying to come up with a solid plan here, Dean. I mean she’s powerful. She screwed with us for almost two weeks without us noticing and I mean you tried shooting her earlier, right? Didn’t work out that well, did it?“

“Alright. Maybe,“ I said, getting irritated. “But we can think about details later. I mean, have we made mistakes? Hell, yes. And we can analyze each and every one of them over a couple of beers and some nice cookies and ice cream and _out of this room_.“

He looked at me like he always does whenever he gets my anger but refuses to accept it. He’d always been the more rational one, always the one who cooled me down when I was near exploding. I didn’t understand how he could keep so calm in situations like this, sometimes I even envied him for it, mostly when I looked back at things and felt embarrassed for how I always had to go full attack dog instead of using my brain for a second. 

I inhaled the musty air. This cell smelled like old piss and mildew. My eyes roamed around in the dark, unseeing. But then I made something out on the wall behind these bars. A door, I guessed. And some sort of switch next to it. Could just be the light switch, but even if it was, a little light in here would be a start, even though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what type of puddle I was standing in. 

“Sam,“ I gave, my arm stretching through the bars and pointing at it. 

“How are we supposed to reach that?“

Well, we couldn’t, it was too damn far away. “We could try and throw something,“ I suggested. 

“What are you gonna throw? She emptied our pockets, took the guns and knifes and our phones.“

“Well,“ I said with a smirk, “she emptied all the obvious pockets.“

He frowned, his eyes flicking down to my crotch for a second, as though he thought I had something hidden in my boxers other than my dick. 

“No, you idiot. I got a hidden pocket in this jacket. You know that,“ I said as I drew out my other, broken phone and showed him. It came in handy after all. 

I summoned all existing focus, which wasn’t much to be honest, then threw it at the switch. Thank god for all the Darts practice I’d had while hustling it to earn some beer money, because I actually hit it on the first try. Not that there would have been a possible second try. A metallic sound scratched and echoed through the small cell. It wasn’t the light switch. It didn't open the cell either. 

I turned and found the bars on the window had opened, which was probably how we’d gotten here in the first place. _Great_ , I thought to myself. Luckily, I had a Sasquatch for a brother, tall and strong enough to give me a leg up so I could climb out first.

As we were both free we were back to square one. Once again, we sneaked our way inside the house, this time heading right for the kitchen. We grabbed some kitchen knifes to have at least any sort of weaponry, then went back upstairs. We still didn’t have a real plan. But then again, when did we ever have one? We’d always been make-it-up-as-you-go kind of guys, got there first, found a solution later. 

The problem with Carly was that she was nearly impenetrable with what she was capable of, she clearly had the upper hand with her mind tricks. The floorboards creaked under our boots as we were headed back upstairs, but halfway up something changed. It seemed she already knew we were coming, because what hit us then was high-quality Carly Crap. Our surroundings transformed, blurred into what looked like a large lake, water all around. I could feel its wetness, froze by its coldness, struggled and moved to keep my head above the surface.

But then I was pulled underwater, dragged down and down and down, gasping for air, my lungs filling with water. My arms paddled desperately, but it didn’t keep me from drowning, suffocating, and as I looked over to my brother I saw he was inside the same nightmare.

But it wasn't real. It was illusionary hocus-pocus. Somehow I managed to get over to Sam, touched his shoulder and tried to speak. But nothing but water and croaking sounds came out. I still couldn’t breathe. But it wasn’t real, I _knew_ it wasn’t. I closed my eyes, focused on what I knew was actually around us, where we were in real life, on a set of wooden stairs, not in a body of water. And I tried again. The world around me changed again, the water subsided. I inhaled deeply, fresh air filled my lungs.

“Sam,“ I choked out. “Sam, it’s not real.“

He looked at me, his hands on his chest, his eyes full of terror. 

My hand settled on his cheek. “Come on, Sammy. Look at me. I’m breathing, I’m talking. You’re not underwater.“

He sucked in air in one sharp breath, his eyes wide, trying to recover. 

We ventured on, sneaked back to the room we’d found Cas in, the house quiet as before, the pounding of my heart, though, loud enough for me to hear it. The door stood open and as I peered inside I found Cas was still in there. But Carly was, too. She was staring at him and he was staring back, but his expression wasn’t blank anymore. It looked pained and wounded, and it took me every ounce of self-control to not just storm in there and make her stop. 

“Why don’t you come in?“ Carly said out of nowhere. “You’re being rude.“

I exchanged a look with Sam, then left my position near the door and stepped inside. “Get away from him,“ I snarled.

She smiled. “I must say. You really don’t live up to the hype, boys. I mean, the _stories_ I heard about you.“

“Sorry to disappoint.“

Her head tilted and it came disturbingly close to looking the way Cas always did it. “Doesn’t it ever bother you that you keep getting into that sorta crap and you’re always the ones who put yourselves there?“ she asked, her voice smooth and calm.

“What?“ 

She rose to her feet. “This. It didn’t have to happen. If only you stayed home and just for once been patient. You would’ve gotten Cas back eventually.“

“What, you expected me to just sit there and wait for you to decide you had enough fun with him?“ I asked.

She smiled. “Nah, not really. Would’ve been wiser, though. Cause now that I’m comfortably pissed-off by you invading my home, I’m gonna let you suffer.“ 

“What are you doing to him?“ I asked, changing the topic. “You feeding on him like on the others?“

She looked at Cas on the bed, still like a statue again, his eyes focussed on the floor. “I don’t feed on people, Dean. I merely take away their emotions.“

“Didn’t look like it back in that town,“ Sam piped up, and I shot him a look. “People without emotions might get insane, but not like that.“

“Some do,“ she said casually. She looked at us for some moments, then seemed to decide something. “Alright. I can see you have all sorts of questions in those handsome heads of yours. You see, I prefer crazy over the run-of-the-mill emotions people have. And before you ask, I didn't turn all those people crazy. Just some of them, like Dale or that Catherine chick. The thing is, once I get started it affects other people, too, it spreads, you could say. Real bummer.“

“You _killed_ people,“ Sam said.

“I didn’t kill anyone,“ she gave back as she looked at him. “ _They_ did. I can’t be blamed for what they do. And also, I’m doing them a favor.“

“How?“ Sam asked.

“It’s therapy, Sam. I didn’t go and make anything up in their minds, it was already there.“

“Well,“ I said, subtly stepping closer to her. “I don’t understand your specific brand of crazy, but I do admire your total commitment to it.“

“I’m not crazy,“ she claimed. “Of course I didn't want them to go and hurt people with what they’ve learned about themselves, but how am I responsible for their failures?“

“Why are you doing this?“ Sam asked. 

“To help people. And well, because I am what I am. I need other peoples’ emotions to understand the world around me.“

“Cut the crap,“ I growled, stepping even closer. She obviously noticed, but didn't seem to mind. 

“Look, I could spend hours explaining every little detail to you, but—“

“ _Answer_ the question,“ I barked and raised my knife. “Or I’ll just kill you right now.“

“Really?“ she chuckled, then stared at me in that way again.

I was close to giving in to her control again, my hand shaking, so close to do what she wanted, and somewhere in the part of my head that wasn't busy resisting I wondered how we would ever manage to beat her. We didn't even know what exactly she was, because empath clearly didn’t even begin to cover it. 

“What are you?“ I asked, my voice cracking.

She crossed her arms, something in her face that looked almost sad. “I am what was made of me.“ She made a few strolling steps through the room. “But I’m not gonna do that whole villain monologue reciting their tragic back story crap now.“ She looked up at me, the painful reminder of memories visible in her eyes, and for a moment I almost felt for her, then she seemed to reclaim her composure. “Anyway. Yada-yada-yada, I met that Lilith chick, she hooked me up with some stuff that made me stronger, and here I am. The Winchesters’ monster of the week. I’d call that a career.“ 

“So she gave you her blood?“ Sam asked. 

Carly studied him for a moment, then nodded.

“So you’re like me,“ he said.

“Alright. I’ve seen that show,“ I chimed in, stalling while still trying to figure out a way to off her. “She got you addicted to demon blood, you hulked out and made all the bad choices, right? What does any of that have to do with what you’re doing now?“

“Well, she left me. At some point I found that I didn't need demon blood to feel strong. Even when, technically, it’s what made me this strong in the first place. But what I need to stay strong is what I’ve always needed. Emotions.“

“So now you’re getting your kick by sucking them off others as some sort of substitute drug?“ I asked. 

“You know what?“ she gave as she turned back to me. “I don’t appreciate your judging, Dean. I had it all under control until you two idiots rolled into town. I knew I had to gain your trust, and at first it was actually just self-preservation. But then I started to like you and I got impatient and sloppy and that’s when shit hit the fan.“

“Why didn’t you just leave then?“ I asked.

“Well, I wanted your angel, of course. He’s uh…,“ she looked at Cas. “He’s real special.“

“What’d you do to him?“ I asked again.

“You know what? This Q&A thing is starting to get boring. How about now we play a little?“

“No, thanks, I’m not that kinda kinky,“ I scoffed. “I think I’m just gonna kill you now.“

“I’m not asking for your cooperation,“ she gave back. “I’m just taking it.“

With that she closed her eyes in concentration and what felt like a thick invisible cloud of energy rose up from somewhere and flooded right into me. My heart started racing, blood pumping through me in wild rivers that burned so hot, it felt like I was boiling from the inside out. I bent over in pain, gasped out what little air was left in my lungs, a fevered urge taking control over me that was impossible to resist. 

I heard Sam call out for me, felt his hands on my arm and back, but the high-pitched ringing in my ears was too loud and dizzying. I started shaking, my entire body trembling with a foreign longing I’d felt before, but still didn't know how to satisfy. My hand reached out, found Sam’s jacket and clawed into it, but not for stability or even safety, as though I needed to touch something familiar to bear something unfamiliar. 

“Stop it,“ I barked out through my teeth, barely able to breathe. There was a swelling in my head, a pushing pressure, a shrill cry to give in to what her mind control showed me to do to make this pain of resistance go away. But I couldn’t. And I _could_. I knew I could. My body wanted to, my mind wanted to, so it felt like I wanted it, too. 

“The only thing I ever do,“ Carly said from somewhere, “is drawing out the most potent emotion.“

I struggled hard. Heard Sam’s worried words in my ears. _Dean Dean Dean_. I balled fists into his shirt, looked at him. Tried to see that brother of mine, not the flesh and bones that made him. Tried to hear his voice, not the blood in his veins. Tried to feel family, not meat. 

Carly laughed, apparently amused by my efforts. “In your case that’s anger, Dean. That’s why you’re feeling like your blood is searing through your inside right now.“

“That—,“ I bit out. “Why do I—“

“Oh, you mean that other thing? Right. You see, your strongest emotion is mostly connected to your deepest fear. It doesn't always have to make so much sense, everyone reacts differently to fear. You, Dean, you seem to react with anger to just about anything.“

I threw her a look of disgust, all I could muster up right then. Her energy had taken over my entire being by now. I wanted to tell her to shut up, that I didn't care, that I didn’t want to know what she thought I was afraid of. I didn’t need a psycho bitch to tell me and everyone else in the room what I already knew. I just needed it to stop.

“Yours is the fear of starving,“ she continued lecturing. “Not just in the most obvious sense, for food. You’re starving for attention. For being heard and seen. For affection. And most of all you’re starving for love. And since you don’t know how to get all this, you settle for food.

“But my effect on you right now, it’s making you crave for it in the most intense way.“ She smiled. “Let’s take this up a notch.“

The cry of pain inside me got louder. Everything was burning and clenching, it felt like something was crawling around under my skin. I felt my hands moving from Sam’s shirt to his shoulders, trembling and pounding. They grabbed him, hurled him against the nearest wall.

“Dean,“ he cried out.

I looked into his eyes, felt a tiny sensation that told me no, but it was so dim and irrelevant. It wasn’t enough. My eyes found the spot where his shoulder met his neck, zoned in on it, my heart hammering inside my ribcage with a savage rhythm, a need so impossible and yet so irresistible that I had no ways of stopping it. 

And then I bit. My teeth pierced through his flesh like it was nothing while his cry of pain didn't even really reach me as I ripped out a piece of him. Blood streamed down his front and out of my mouth, dripping from my lips as I chewed on the raw bite, a satisfaction washing over me that I didn't want to feel and yet welcomed in relief. 

Sam was holding his wound, a hysteric look in his eyes, and faintly I noticed Cas looking at me. For a moment, I didn't care. For a moment, I was content, swallowed the meat like it was just food, like I hadn’t just gone full cannibalism on my own brother. But when that moment was over and I remembered, realized that that wasn't me, my breathing peaked, air rattling in and out of me through blood-stained teeth and past a tongue that tasted the iron of his blood.

I dropped to my knees. Looked up at Sam, a long maddening look, the redness of my current longing slowly ebbing away, as the picture of him got sharper again, more visible. I was trying to communicate something to him, and I hoped he understood. 

Carly walked over to me. I knew what she was about to do the minute her eyes met mine. I didn't want it, it would get awful and could probably even kill me, and I was so afraid. The extent of what she could do to me, what she could make me do, what she could make me feel, it inhabited every one of my thoughts as terror filled more and more of me with every step she took. But I couldn’t move.

She came down to the floor in front of me, her hands cupping my face and her eyes full of tenderness, of all things. There was a second I felt absolutely safe in her grasp, even when I knew I wasn’t at all.

And then there was that pull, that coldness seeping into me, or coming from my core, as she sucked every last thought and feeling out of me. I felt empty already, gave it all up willingly even, felt it drain away as though she was curing something inside me, burning it out and taking the ashes. All the pain went away, all the hurt and the anger and everything else. I felt cold, frozen. Surrendered to her. I had no choice.

My vision blurred more and more, colors and shapes smearing into one, until I could barely see anything, a blackness crowding into my sight like the darkness was taking me over and making me blind. I wondered if I was dying. Some part of me wanted to, wanted it to be over now. It felt like I was falling and falling down an endless pit, I never stopped, I had no hold, nothing to reach or reach for, and I just wanted to finally get to the bottom. Close my eyes and give in, give up, and give myself over to the dark.

“Sam,“ she suddenly said.

I knew that I knew that name and who it belonged to, but my brain was too clouded and uncomprehending to grasp what was happening. She turned around, and I managed to move my eyes up enough to find my brother standing behind her with a knife in his hand. 

I was too weak. Too hollow to seize the moment and chance to get at her, my hands finding the floor, fingernails curling into the carpet. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn't see. I couldn't understand what Sam did and what Carly did and what was happening at all. I gulped in as much air as I could manage, gasping and panting with the last bit of remaining will that still connected me to life.

And then I heard Cas, only saying my name. My eyes fluttered open and found the angel on the bed, the same sort of fucked up as I was. Something in his look seemed urgent. Important. It was strange how he could shake me out of anything, how he could make me see, make me understand, with only one word spoken with his low familiar voice. 

I don’t know why I did it, but this fight was near impossible to win, I thought at least one of us should make it out of there. It was the only logical thing that crossed my mind. I dipped my fingers in the pool of my brother’s blood near me, drew the sigil. I looked back at Cas, breathed out another of those empty apologies. “I’m sorry, Cas.“

I activated the sigil and Cas was blasted out of the room in a bright explosion of light. Carly was so surprised she let go of Sam. The bright white hit her so entirely, it seemed to incapacitate her enough to lose control, and that was when Sam raised his knife and stabbed it into her front in one unthinking movement. 

Her eyes rolled inward and she dropped to the floor. Game over. 

Sam drew in a sharp breath of relief, his eyes finding me. I gazed at Carly’s dead body, took in Cas’ absence, the stink of blood, the disturbing silence after a series of actions that had simply happened too fast. Then I found Sam’s face and his bleeding shoulder, felt sorry for a split second. I threw up on the floor. 

_____________________

“How’s your shoulder?“

“Well,“ Sam gave, lifting his shirt a little to have a look. “It’s still bleeding, but I’ll live.“

I felt his eyes on me while I repositioned my hands on the wheel, stubbornly focussing on the road ahead. It was almost morning and I could already see the first glimpses of the starting dawn near the horizon, the earth and the sky separated by a thin line of lighter shades.

“What about you?“ Sam asked. 

I looked at him for a second, then back at the asphalt in front of me. “What about me?“

“How are you?“

“Hm,“ I made, furrowed my brows. “I just threw up the entirety of my stomach contents. We killed the monster. We’re both still alive. I’d say I’m good.“

“Dean. I’m talking about—“

“I know,“ I cut him off. “Look. There are at least sixteen ways this could’ve gone better, like, I’m actually counting them right now. But we did it, man. That’s all that matters.“

“Dean,“ he said again. “Cas is gonna be fine. He’s gonna turn up eventually, and then—“

“I know,“ I cut him off again, my voice calm.

“Huh,“ he made, studied me again from the passenger’s seat. 

I turned my eyes to him once more, found him giving me that scrutinizing look of his, like I was full of bullshit. “What?“

“I’da thought you’d freak out. Or _something_. But you don’t seem too concerned.“

I sighed heavily. On purpose. With damn intent. The thing is, I wasn’t freaking out. I wasn’t concerned. In fact, I wasn’t feeling anything. There was that big, fat hole inside me, pure emptiness, blackness. The absence of things. 

“I am concerned,“ I lied. “But like you said, he’s gonna turn up eventually. And he’s a big boy, he can handle himself.“

“Uh-huh,“ Sam made, little convinced. 

I gave him another quick side-look, his damn puppy eyes filled with all the care on god’s green earth and with a deadly determination to figure me out. Sometimes I felt like his science project, like he studied dumbass behavior on the living subject in its natural habitat and I was his guinea pig. 

“Alright,“ I gave up. “I didn’t lie, I really am good. But when Carly… had her way with me, she uh— she took something, like she uh…“

“She took your emotions?“ Sam threw in.

“Yeah. I guess.“ I ran a hand across my face. “But I’m gonna be okay, alright? It’s fine.“

__________________

Days passed back home in Kansas in what felt like the longest silence I’d ever experienced, both Sam and I walking through the bunker on soft feet like we worried we could disturb the cosmic balance by making too much noise. I was sure he was trying not to disturb me while thinking I needed time to get back to myself and deal. I, on the other hand, I just couldn't stand sounds. The sharp splashing of water when I washed my hands, the clatter of dishes when Sam cleaned them in the sink, even the rattle of the ventilation system seemed unbearably loud these days. 

I was lost. I was cold, all the time. Walked around with a blanket around my shoulders, and at some point Sam even started to make me tea every two hours. But it wasn’t a coldness coming from outside, something I could work against by keeping myself warm. It came from inside me, from that nothingness that filled me. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t dream when I did, I couldn’t feel a damn thing. Once I’d even turned the faucet in the kitchen as hot as it’d go, turning the skin of my hands a deep irritated red, just to feel anything. 

I’d felt empty before, but never had I felt so dead.

And then, one day, it all came back at once. It wasn’t just there when I woke up, like a convenient if surprising change in my mind. No, it hit me with full force during one of our silent breakfasts. One minute I was wondering about whether or not I’d manage to rip off one of my own fingers if I tried, and how much it’d hurt, and the next minute it felt like my brain was on fire. Hundreds and thousands of voices started talking all at once, pictures crashed through my skull, shrieking noises thundered through my thoughts. And music. There was so much music.

I squeezed my eyes shut, holding my own torso in a desperate attempt to get any kind of hold as all the feelings that had left me, that had left me a freezing mess, rained down on me and pounded in my head and heart and against my skin as though, now that they were back, they were trying to escape again. 

“Dean?“ I heard Sam across from me. “Dean!“

I felt his hand on my shoulder, trying to steady me as I was breaking down right there in our kitchen, rivulets of tears running down my face while I was gasping for air. I could feel all of it. The despair. The fear. The anger. The disgust. The memories of wanting to die and wanting to kill. Everything that had to do with Cas.

Some people bring out the worst in you. Some bring out the best. And then there are these remarkably rare ones, the addictive ones. The ones who bring out the most of everything. And I almost felt ashamed that someone could mean so much to me. 

“Dean,“ I heard Sam’s soft voice again.

I dared to open my eyes, squinted up at him as his blurry face revealed in front of me. “I can’t,“ I just said, my voice a mere whisper. 

Sam brought me to my room then, babbling something about a meltdown and how he’d expected this after what he’d read about empaths. As he tucked me in he was telling me about things I had to do now, things to ease the effect, but I couldn't even hear him over the loud screaming in my head. 

Carly had said it, my strongest emotion was anger. But there was no strongest now, it all felt strong, it all felt loud and painful and both amazing and scary. It overwhelmed me so much, I couldn't do much more than lie there in my bed and stare at the inside of my own eyelids, tears wetting my cheeks and the pillow, my entire body trembling with energy. 

_________________

It took two days and two nights for me to get back to normal. I was sitting in our library, a massive headache hammering in my skull like I was sporting the worst hangover of my entire existence. But my mind was somewhat sharp again, even when it took some caffein to accomplish that. 

I was rubbing my forehead as Sam came walking in, like he so often did. Joining me as though he had a sixth sense about when you could talk to me or when I didn’t mind some company. 

“How you doing?“ he asked as he took the seat across from me. 

“Fine. Better, I guess.“ I sighed, took a sip of coffee and met his eyes, trying to convey as much certainty as possible. “You heard from Cas?“

“No. Sorry,“ he said, as though it was his fault. 

I huffed, my finger tracing one of my brows as I fixed a spot on the table. 

“He’s gonna turn up—“

“I know,“ I cut him off. 

“Sorry.“

“It’s just—,“ I started, looked back up at my brother. “It’s been almost a week. You think maybe… the angels got him or something?“

“I don’t know,“ Sam said. “Why would they?“

“I don’t know. But it doesn't normally take that long, right? Maybe he’s in trouble.“

“Dean, I’m sorry. But I’m sure he’ll—“

“Stop apologizing,“ I cut in with a little more force and irritation in my voice than I’d meant to. 

Sam just stared at me in silence, gulped down whatever he’d been about to say. 

I rubbed my eyes. “Just— Look, it’s not your fault, Sam. We’ve been over this— _so_ many times already. I can’t keep trying to convince you, if you refuse to believe it.“

“But what if it really was my choice?“ he asked. “What if it wasn’t Car? What if it really was all my fault?“

“So?“ I gave back, holding his stare. “It’s done, okay. It’s done. We can’t change the past. And frankly? I don’t care anymore. I’m tired of this topic. I’m tired of arguing. I just want Cas back.“

Sam nodded, his eyes dropping to the tabletop. I could tell he had so many things in that stubborn head of his that he wanted to say, so many things he wanted me to know, but he kept it.

It didn’t matter. Carly sure would have kidnapped Cas one way or the other, still would have tormented him in her own personal home of horrors. And I still would have gone after her. And I was the one who’d done the banishing sigil, not Sam. I’d blasted out Cas, maybe stupidly, maybe brilliantly, depends on who you ask. No matter what Sam had or hadn’t done, I was sure it would have all ended the same way. And it wasn’t like Cas was dead. He was just gone.

A while went by in yet another silence, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one, or anxious or sad. But when some moments of wordlessly drinking our respective coffees and not looking at each other passed, that calm peacefulness was interrupted by my buzzing phone. 

I picked up, didn’t recognize the number, but when I heard the first word on the other end of the line I instantly knew. “Cas?“


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean grills burgers, Cas talks about the Middle Ages, and Sam is clueless.

_* but we can’t run from the wind and the thunder *_  
__________

I had no idea what to expect. I had no idea what shape Cas would be in. I had no idea how much he remembered. I had no idea if he’d be happy to see me, no idea if he’d called me because he’d wanted to or just because I was the only one he could call. 

And then I saw him, as the Impala’s tires rolled onto the parking lot, standing there outside a Gas’n’Sip, lost and alone, and my heart felt like it was about to swell beyond the capacity of my chest. I got out of the car, stood there for a moment, watching him while he was watching me, a moment that stretched out in a kind of forever. 

His hair was a mess, his features drawn, he was still wearing my clothes, a dark pair of jeans and a plaid shirt and my dark green jacket. For some reason I was really nervous, freaking out, in fact, on the inside, and when I walked towards him, because he didn’t move, I could barely swallow. 

I stopped in front of him, took in the full extent of his disheveled appearance and the way he looked at me, and finally found the first words to say to him after everything that’d happened. “You look like roadkill.“

“Yes,“ he answered, looked down on himself. “I’m dirty.“

I gave him a lopsided smile. “Are you alright?“

He nodded. Didn’t say much more. 

“What happened?“

“Well,“ he said and fixed something somewhere behind me. “I came to in a forest a couple of miles from here. That was three or four days ago, it’s hard to tell.“ He rubbed his eyes, unease written over his features. “When I finally made it out, I walked along the road and found this place. That was when I called you.“

“I’m sorry, Cas,“ was all I could say. He looked like he’d been through hell, covered in dirt and sweat and a tiredness in his eyes that shouldn't be there. “So, you’re mojo’s not back yet?“

“Not entirely, no.“ His eyes dropped, then came back up to mine. “Dean. How are you?“

I smiled. It was so typical for him, to ask me if I was okay even though he was clearly worse. “I’m fine, Cas. Come on, let’s get you home.“

________________

A few hours later, I was back in our kitchen in front of the stove and grilled some burgers. The drive to the bunker had been filled with silences, every now and then interrupted by random comments about the landscape and the weather that, I supposed, Cas only made because he was uncomfortable with silences. It had been smalltalk at its worst, and the only thing he’d said that had been anywhere near interesting to me was that he was hungry. 

Sam’s and Cas’ reunion had been friendlier and with way more hugging than ours, but then again, Sam wasn’t conflicted inside about being in love with his best friend. Sam hadn’t been kissed by Cas, or got shoulder rubs all the time without asking. Sam didn't have to stare back at Cas for endless minutes every time we both wanted to say things but neither of us dared to. Sam didn't react with unfiltered anger whenever he was feeling insecure about something Cas did. In fact, Sam never felt insecure around Cas. Sam just welcomed back a friend; I’d picked up the love of my life after having lost it for the millionth time. There’s the difference, and I told myself that’s all it was.

By the time the burgers in the pan were ready to be turned, I shuddered. I’d been so caught up in my own thinking and re-thinking, I hadn’t even noticed someone entered the kitchen. 

“Cas,“ I said. “I can feel your breath in my neck.“

Even without looking I could tell he was cocking his head behind me. “I can’t sense whether you find that good or bad,“ he said in a serious tone, like he was talking about something earth-shattering rather than what it actually was. “I suppose it’s because of my still incapacitated powers. It’s very irritating.“

I sighed, more on the inside than on the outside. Of course he’d usually know, and only by reading my aura or whatever, not by having picked up on human body language like I wished he would. “It’s uh—,“ I stammered, not willing to hurt the various human feelings he seemed to have trouble understanding. “It’s not the worst thing. But I said that so you’d back off, you know?“

He hummed then, again into my neck, a warm wave of air grazing my skin. Nothing about it felt okay, least of all the fact that I got inexcusably, inappropriately turned on by the sound of it. Then he stepped away, left to somewhere else while I was too embarrassed to turn around. I supposed he sat down at the table because I could hear the newspaper rattling that I knew was there. 

I had a thousand questions in my head. Some old ones, like where did he go when he was blasted away by an angel banishing sigil? Or what was it like? Some concerning the situation at hand, like was it okay that I’d done that? Or did he know why I’d done it? And some were just caused by worry, like what had it been like to wake up in the woods, all alone and hungry and tired, and all because of me? And most importantly, had he been going through the same thing I had? 

I didn’t ask any of them. I sort of knew he had, knew that he must have had the same kind of meltdown after regaining the ability to feel everything, only maybe a little differently because he was still an angel, technically. And knowing what that meltdown is like, I supposed he probably didn't want to talk about it any more than I did. 

We ate together, then, quietly. He almost devoured the food, at some point he told me how it was delicious and how I was a great cook and a good soul for feeding him, which made me a little proud. It was nice, though compliments like this always had me a bit taken by surprise and unable to reciprocate. Because why? Why did he keep saying such nice things to me? And then, how could we still be just friends? And _were _we?__

__I was the guy who always just wanted to do the right thing, and did so many wrong things in between. The guy who wanted a family, and did everything to lose it. The guy who’d become a caretaker, a nurturer when he’d still been a kid, who loved his brother more than himself, and still never really managed to protect him._ _

__I was the guy who had dreams he never followed, who’d once fallen in love and fucked it up, and was certain he’d never get that again. I was a man who loved his car, his tapes, his flannel and leather jacket, his dad, only because he never knew how to like himself, so he became the person he worshipped the most. A man who fucked his way through America instead of finding love, because he only knew how to kiss strangers and pretend they were not._ _

__I was a man who was exhausted, weary to the bone, tired since forever. A man who was always angry and always blamed that on everyone else. Someone who sold his soul to a demon, who’d tasted darkness, Hell, and had been corrupted to the core. Who then spread that darkness while carving into others. A man who saw what he wanted and didn’t take it. Who killed to keep it, but never stopped to claim it._ _

__Why would he ever want that?_ _

__________________ _

__Later that day, I finally allowed myself to relax and took a shower. I loved the water pressure in the bunker’s bathroom. The room didn’t look like much, in fact, it looked anything but luxurious, just a couple of shower stalls and sinks and a small bathtub in the middle, ugly tiling and ancient dim lighting all around._ _

__I felt the warm water soothe my tensed-up muscles, reddening my skin and numbing my scars, the stress and despair of those past months all washing away at once, as though soap and a few minutes of privacy were everything I’d needed._ _

__That privacy ended, though, the minute I stepped out of the stall, wrapping a towel around my waist as I padded through the steam-filled room on bare feet and bumped right into someone’s chest and almost jumped out of my skin._ _

__“Jesus, Cas,“ I bit out, running a hand over my face._ _

__“Did I startle you?“ he asked, all innocent, and when I scowled at him he added, “My apologies.“_ _

__“What are you doing in here?“ I asked as my grip around the towel tightened, nervous it could by some miracle just slip away on its own._ _

__“I…,“ he started, his eyes squirmy like they were searching something. “I— don’t know.“_ _

__I raised a brow at that, naturally. He was acting even weirder than me, and that’s saying something. He also seemed absolutely incapable of keeping his eyes anywhere above my jaw, which made me even more aware of how naked I was. Unconsciously, I wiped my hand on my chest, as though I was trying to brush off his look with that, and his eyes were following the movement so intensely, I realized I was probably making it worse._ _

__I cleared my throat awkwardly. “Uh,“ I made like an idiot. “You wanna take a shower?“_ _

__His eyes snapped up to mine, wide and surprised, and only then did I get my head clear enough to realize how that sounded._ _

__“I mean,“ I started again, looking anywhere but him, a nervous smile forming my lips, “not with me. I already showered, obviously. I meant you. As in you alone. Without me. So… do you?“_ _

__Cas’ head tilted slowly, his brows furrowed so much, I feared he suddenly forgot how to comprehend human language. “Huh?“ he just made then, which kind of proved my theory._ _

__“Do you want to take a shower?“ I drawled, emphasizing each word like he was retarded._ _

__“Yes,“ he said and nodded._ _

__As I was showing him the stalls, careful not to assign him to the one I’d used, as though I’d done anything wrong or unholy in there, he couldn't stop staring at me and I couldn't stop adding some sort of sign language to everything I said while explaining how these old showers worked. It was like we didn't know how to communicate anymore, like we were speaking different languages. Or maybe we just couldn’t do it without the awkwardness._ _

__“Got it?“ I asked after my very detailed, very unnecessary elaboration about showering._ _

__Cas nodded again. Stared at me. Stared at the towel around my waist for a little too long._ _

__“Right,“ I said, fetched a fresh towel and handed it to him, completely ignoring the possibility that he could have looked at something else entirely. “There you go. Now you uh— you just gotta get undressed,“ I explained, as though he’d never taken a shower in his life, which I knew for a fact he had._ _

__His eyes fixed me again, then he started pulling off the plaid shirt, my plaid shirt, without looking away. My brain sort of turned off, totally disconnected to the world and its own function, just gave up and left me, and I focussed so much on what he was doing, I didn’t even realize I did._ _

__But I managed to shake myself out of it after a few seconds, cleared my throat again, my eyes finding the interesting color and build of the ceiling. “Okay, uh— I’m— I’ll just— I leave you to it then.“_ _

__With that I all but bolted out of the bathroom without a look back, slamming the door shut and hurrying to my own room, unfortunately past a confused looking Sam, who called something after me that sounded like some wisecracking comment about how masturbation is nothing to be ashamed of but how we agreed not to do it in the bathroom anymore._ _

____________________ _

__About an hour later, I was lounging on my bed and listening to my favorite Zeppelin album when the door to my room opened. I hadn’t heard anyone knocking, then again I never heard anything when I tried shutting out the world with headphones and music._ _

__Cas stepped into the room, and I took off the headphones. “Hello, Dean.“_ _

__“Hey,“ I gave back, sitting up a little and pulling up my legs. “What’s up?“_ _

__He looked around like he always did when he was in my room, every time, like he was in here for the very first time, or like this was some legendary, long lost sacred place that had just been re-discovered or something. “I uh—,“ he started, wandered over to my desk and picked up a piece of paper, pretending to read it, then turned back to me. “I was hoping you could lend me some more of your clothes, since these seem to need washing.“_ _

__“Sure,“ I said and went over to the drawer. I pulled out the first few things I laid hands on and gave them to him. “There you go.“_ _

__He stood there for a moment, eying the pile of clothes in his arms, but didn't move._ _

__“You need anything else?“ I asked._ _

__He set down the clothes on the desk, but kept one hand resting on them as he fixed the floor, then looked back up at me through his lashes. “I was also hoping we could talk.“_ _

__“Uh,“ I made, cleared my throat, “yeah, sure. What’s going on?“_ _

__I sat back down on the edge of the mattress, and he followed me suit, folded his hands in his lap. I could see hundreds of thoughts crossing his eyes and face, but he didn't say a word. “What is it, Cas?“_ _

__He glanced at me for a moment, then his eyes drifted away to my nightstand. He smiled. “You kept it.“_ _

__I turned my head, found that ugly angel tree ornament sitting there with its disheveled goose feather wings and the smeared face I’d painted with a sharpie. “Yeah. I don’t know.“_ _

__“You know,“ he said, still looking at it with a fond expression, “I used to think you put it on your tree for the sole purpose of making fun of me.“_ _

__He looked at me. I smiled._ _

__“Me,“ he continued, “the holy celestial being. The Angel of the Lord. The— as you once put it — dick with wings.“_ _

__I snorted._ _

__“It does seem to have some sort of sentimental value to you, though.“_ _

__I peered back at the thing, considered. Probably. Maybe. Unlikely. “Nah, not really.“_ _

__“Why did you keep it then?“_ _

__I pursed my lips. “Didn’t have the heart to throw it out yet, I guess.“_ _

__He nodded, smiled to himself. Then, “Did I ever tell you about my time in ancient Greece?“_ _

__My brows rose in surprise, kind of taken aback by the sudden change of topics. “I don’t think so, no.“_ _

__“I was stationed there for a while to watch humanity. Of course, I wasn’t allowed to interact with them, I was supposed to uh— to watch from the distance, you could say. But you know me,“ he said, stopped to smile at me a little, “I rarely follow my orders to the full extent. So, one day I found myself walking through one of their cities. I don’t think I remember which one it was, I did that several more times after that, because I noticed, surprisingly, I wasn’t going to be punished for it. These humans, even so early in their history, they built the most amazing things. There were palaces, monuments and temples, taller than I’d ever seen them, and bath houses, libraries, schools._ _

__“The people who lived there were astounding, beautiful and smart. Some of them even brilliant. And as time went by, I watched a lot of these intriguing cities grow and develop, and ultimately be destroyed, either by war or by catastrophe.“_ _

__“Okay,“ I said stupidly, not able to come up with anything else to say._ _

__“I was stationed in a lot of different places, Dean,“ Cas went on. “And in a lot of different times. Back then, I was just a minor angel at the very end of the command chain, put wherever needed in order to report back to my superiors. I’ve seen so many things, witnessed so much bad, and so much good. I watched the world on the brink of destruction countless times, and on the verge of getting back up afterwards.“_ _

__“Why are you telling me all this, Cas?“ I asked, quietly and a little nervous even, because I’d never seen him like that. Both sad and happy, in a way. I was having an uneasy feeling about it, my gut clenching and unclenching with a type of fear I always felt whenever I thought something bad was about to be said to me._ _

__Cas peeled his eyes off the spot at my wall he’d been watching and looked at me with a grave tint in his face. “I’ve lived through several millennia of existence, Dean,“ he said, then stopped and swallowed. “But the only world I’ve ever cared about is the one with you in it.“_ _

__My lower lip twitched, my throat suddenly so dry I wished I had a glass of water. Or a bottle of whiskey. Or a pool of something causing sudden coma. I looked away. Tried to swallow. Failed. It wasn’t fair. He couldn’t just say stuff like that to me and expect me to… be okay. I’d just decided I was okay, that I could manage being just friends. Because becoming a family had happened with time, but becoming his friend had been a choice of some sort. So why couldn't staying friends be a choice, too? Why was he trying to make me lose the little bit of control I had?_ _

__“Cas, I can’t.“_ _

__In the corner of my eyes I saw his head drop, his hands working, moving around each other. Then he said, “Yes, Dean. You can.“_ _

__I looked back at him, it wasn’t an easy thing to do, and I found so many things there when the blue of his eyes met mine, when yet another silent conversation was beginning between us that I had no way to decode or understand._ _

__“You can,“ he repeated. “You’re a man who can make everyone laugh in the darkest of times, even though inside you’re just as scared. Who can judge people with his eyes while sipping on a drink. You can make people love you even more by hurting them with your words. You can make people reach out to you by pushing them away. You can make people understand you by provoking them, hitting their weakest spots. You can make people drop everything and follow your ideas by only smiling at them. You can fail a thousand times and still keep trying. You can do anything, Dean. The only thing you must do is _letting_ yourself.“_ _

__It was seismic, something of enormous effect. I swallowed. Stared at him. Disbelieved him, because I needed to. Wanted to, in that moment._ _

__He smiled, somewhat bitterly, then stood up and left my room. The door fell into its lock slowly, but I still startled somehow by that little sound._ _

__________________ _

__The next morning, when I sat at the kitchen table with Sam, the air was filled with the scent of coffee and the lack of words, while my head had been wide awake since yesterday, working double and triple shifts to gain any sort of order in my thoughts. I was still thinking about Cas’ words._ _

__“What’s up with you?“ Sam asked at some point, throwing me a studying look over the rim of his mug._ _

__“Nothing,“ I lied, stared back into the newspaper I wasn’t reading._ _

__Sam didn’t comment, didn’t push me into sharing what he must notice was bothering me. But then, after a little while of silence, he just went and asked, “So, are you gonna make a move on Cas?“_ _

__My eyes darted up. “What?“ I gave in mild shock. “No!“_ _

__Sam gave me his Cut the Crap Look._ _

__“No,“ I said again. “I mean… I don’t— I don’t know, I guess. But I don’t think so.“ I looked at that stupid stain at the wall behind him again, still, for some reason, wondering what it was. “I mean, why would I?“_ _

__“I thought you said you’re in love with him.“_ _

__“So?“_ _

__“That’s what people usually do when they’re in love, Dean.“_ _

__“Yeah, thanks, I get that,“ I snapped. “But I’m not— you know… I’m not gay.“_ _

__Again the Cut the Crap Look. He should have that patented._ _

__“Yeah, okay, I might’ve kissed him, and said that I might’ve feelings for him,“ I started ranting, “but just because I did that doesn’t mean I’m into guys now. And by the way, technically Cas isn’t even a guy.“_ _

__“Why are you defending yourself?“_ _

__“Because you’re saying I’m gay!“_ _

__“I didn’t say that, Dean,“ he said calmly. “And saying someone’s gay is nothing offensive, by the way.“_ _

__“But I’m not gay! I’m not into men! It’s only that one guy. It’s just him.“_ _

__Sam smiled dumbly, for a reason I didn’t get._ _

__That was when Cas came into the kitchen, stopping in the doorway._ _

__“Morning,“ I said as I looked at him, trying to hope he hadn’t heard any of that and then quickly forgetting that task by noticing his attire. “I see you’re back in your own clothes.“_ _

__“Yes,“ Cas gave back casually, looked down at himself and readjusted his trench coat. He looked back up, then dropped the bomb. “I have to go.“_ _

__With that he just turned and walked away. I exchanged a look with my brother, who just shrugged, that bastard, walking-talking billboard of knowledge, but when I needed him to be wiser than me for a second he was suddenly clueless, of course._ _

__I got up and went after Cas, caught him in the war room. I stopped him at his arm, turned him around. “Cas, wait a second.“_ _

__He sighed, ran a hand over his face. “Dean. I appreciate your hospitality—“_ _

__“But?“ I cut him off._ _

__“But you’re clearly uncomfortable around me.“_ _

__I was dumbstruck for a moment. In a way, I was always waiting for him to leave me, but doing it without a fight, without even arguing, just because of some hunch, just because he was assuming something without asking if it was true, that was new. Yes, maybe I’d been a little jumpy lately, acting a little weird here and there, but I was never uncomfortable._ _

__I was scared._ _

__Scared of losing him. Scared of keeping him. Scared of fucking it up again. Scared he could, at some point, finally discover that I wasn't who he thought I was. I’d kind of waited for this moment to happen, the other shoe dropping, even though I wasn’t sure where and when the first one had dropped. It was like I could see the blade he was going to stab me with, like I’d seen it that entire time, and somehow I hoped he would finally use it, because only then would I finally see how deep it really cuts._ _

__“Stay,“ I said then, a mere whisper, unsure of my own words, unsure they were mine and about where they’d come from._ _

__Cas only stared at me, said nothing. His eyes were full of surprises. Surprising because I’d expected anything there, pity maybe, or something like uncertainty, but not the sheer desperation I saw. I didn’t understand it, but it still managed to make me mad._ _

__“Cas,“ I said, my voice stronger this time, filled with anger. “You know! You know I have feelings for you. You just do. So could you try acting like a human being for just a second and fucking _react_ to that?“_ _

__He blinked. He blinked slowly, like I’d just said something beyond his comprehension, beyond recognizable for a creature like him._ _

__“Cas,“ I said again. Nothing. “You kissed me. That first time. And the second time. _You_ did that. Not me. And don’t you dare blame it all on Carly’s mind tricks, don’t you— I _know_ it was real. I have to know, Cas.“_ _

__His eyes dropped to the ground. “I’ve tried,“ he said, his voice low and hushed. “I tried so many times, Dean, but you keep pushing me away. You talk like you want to, but you act like you don’t.“ He looked back up at me._ _

__“I’m sorry,“ I whispered._ _

__“I’m sorry, too,“ he claimed, his voice rumbling. “I’m sorry I gave you the impression that I don’t want you. I’m sorry I backed away when you tried to make the first move, back then.“ He looked away. “I was just so… surprised. I’ve wanted something more for years, and when it finally seemed to happen, I— I just ran. But I do want it. And running away won’t stop that. I think nothing will stop it. It’s just always… there.“_ _

__My heart, for once, wasn't going wild, just pounded deep and calm inside my ribs like all was fine. But there was a tremor somewhere in me, a building turmoil, a shaking that shook something loose. And I couldn’t swallow. And then I could._ _

__In one sudden movement I wrapped my arms around him, our bodies aligning, my face buried in his shoulder and my arms tightening their grip, as if I could pull him closer than closest. It was a long hug, a deep one. A needed one. And when it ended, I finally knew how. I settled a hand on his neck, my thumb trailing from his chin to the end of his jaw, and moved closer._ _

__Cas’ eyes were wide and bluer than ever, and he tried to ask. “Dean? What—“_ _

__“I’m letting myself.“_ _

__Our faces were no more than an inch apart and my nose touched the side of his when my lips grazed his for a brief, spectacular moment as I tested the grounds first, wanted to feel the skin with mine before I’d connect with it. And then I did. Our lips found each other, touched and moved against each other, and it was as alien as it was familiar._ _

__________________ _

__Cas was talking about the Middle Ages again. These past days had been great, great in every sense of the word. Great because he was still here. Great because we were a thing now. Great because I could kiss him whenever I wanted. Great because it mattered. They were so great, I could even stand hearing about the ways women washed their clothes back in medieval times and such, as though there weren't any more interesting things to tell, like the craftsmanship of blacksmiths, for example. I just liked listening to Cas talk._ _

__He never dared to come too close without asking first, not yet anyway, we hadn’t even shared a bed yet, except for that one time when he’d been going on and on about the shape and structure of spoons in Babylon and I’d fallen asleep on top of him. He seemed to still be figuring out the part about physical closeness and how to get it, while I was already full on board with everything he offered._ _

__But he was talking about the Middle Ages again. And not about swords and mighty battles and horses, or the kinky stuff like orgies or the things playing over and over again in my head while trying to follow his musings, everything I’d learned from Game of Thrones. He was leaning against my desk, a good five feet away from me, talking and talking without even noticing what I was doing while he did._ _

__I stood up from the bed, smiled. I stepped closer, I was drawn to him, I always had been. But now it was different. Because while I liked what we were now, liked how I didn’t need to hold myself back anymore, knew that I could get whatever I wanted, somewhere in these past days something else had grown inside me. You could go and call it desire, or you could just say what it actually was: sexual frustration._ _

__Normally, I’d go out and hook up with some stranger now, preferably some nice young lady with the appearance of an angel and the smile of a devil, but I couldn’t do that now, could I? I was in some sort of commitment to Cas, couldn't just go behind his back with things like that. But it was difficult to figure out if he was even interested in more physical ways of showing attraction, more satisfying ways than kissing, without just straight out asking him about it._ _

__I stepped closer. He was still talking. I couldn't even really hear him anymore over the growing feeling inside my stomach, a clenching and unclenching, not unpleasant, but urgent. Because I was about to make a move. A serious move. A move we couldn't come back from, a line we couldn't uncross. I was nervous. I stepped closer._ _

__I was right in front of him, when he suddenly stopped talking and looked at me. “What?“ he asked like he finally noticed my presence. He searched my eyes, smiled. “Are you going to kiss me?“_ _

__“I’m thinking about it.“_ _

__He smiled wider. Our lips met, tender at first, gently and innocent, almost with hesitation, like we hadn't done that a million times already. But it didn't feel like we had, each time felt like something entirely new._ _

__His hands started traveling then, ran slowly up into my hair and down over my flannel-wrapped shoulders and along my arms and around to my back, holding my body against his. I was trembling a little by then, I noticed, his lips moving against mine in slow, deliberate strokes, as though they’d never done anything else._ _

__We broke apart, I nearly gasped for air. “You know,“ I said, a little shaky, “you’re way handsier than I would’ve imagined.“_ _

__He smiled a little, his hands falling off me, a shy look up to me through his lashes._ _

__“I didn’t say stop.“_ _

__He smirked like a little boy then, went right back into my personal space and grabbed me back, his lips against mine. It was faster this time, more violent, taking more than giving. A moan escaped me, I silenced it by biting his lower lip. He groaned, rocked against me, my hands were all over him._ _

__“Cas,“ I breathed as I paused and looked at him. “You uh— do you…,“ I stammered, swallowed. “Can we… I mean, are you even interested in… taking this… further?“_ _

__“You’re talking about sex.“_ _

__I choked on my own saliva, coughed and wheezed, ran a hand over my face, hoping he couldn't see the raging blush in it. I tried a smirk, wasn't able to answer with words, but it seemed he understood._ _

__Because then he attacked me again, his hands holding me so tightly against him, I had to brace myself on the desk behind him to not fall over. His lips were everywhere, on my mouth, my cheeks, my jaw and chin, my neck, they were walking wild on my skin._ _

__I was so hard in my jeans already, I feared I wouldn't even last a minute longer. He was undressing me, slipped my shirt down my shoulders, my t-shirt over my head, and his hair was madness, a tousled mess with my fingers moving through it._ _

__Unbuttoning his shirt had never seemed as difficult as now, and I had to stop and look to do it. My forehead was against his, as our combined breathing filled the air, one button after another, revealing more and more of him._ _

__And then our chests met, skin on heated skin, sweat mixing in between, and a rush thundered through my head, my mind whitening out, and I grabbed him and turned him around, walking him backwards towards my bed._ _

__We fell onto the mattress together, me on top of him, and as I was running my hand down his side, climbing closer, moving myself down onto him, I realized something. I’d never done that before. I couldn't believe it. I was doing this. I was inventing something._ _

__He looked up at me through clouded eyes, his mouth caught mine, and I was blown to kingdom come. Our bodies moved against each other, rocking and stroking, hands grabbing into flesh, tracing over skin, his arousal evident against mine._ _

__He groaned, made obscene noises mingling with mine, hushed breaths and gasping as my teeth and lips ground against his neck the same way my hips ground into his. His hand was on my chest, driving me mad with want as it moved farther down, and I stopped in awe and mild panic when it reached the waistband of my jeans, his fingers no more than an inch away from my dick._ _

__I shifted my weight onto one elbow, a numbing hotness coming over me, suffocating me, taking my breath away. My eyes fixed on his. I closed them, inhaled. Exhaled. “Cas,“ I whispered. “Please.“_ _

__Without question, he undid the button and zip, reached into my pants, and I nearly fainted when his hand was inside. His soft hand was on me, and it had me drop my head onto his shoulder, panting with need._ _

__He started stroking, slow and cautious, and it was enough, and it wasn’t enough. My head pounded with lust, my dick throbbing in his hand, filling more and more, feeling like it was about to burst, my entire body shaking, muscles quivering, my hip thrusting._ _

__It was so good, it was better than I ever felt it. My arousal sped up to the same rhythm as my breathing, exploded in my head, rang in my ears, pushed in my stomach. I wanted to come so bad. And I wanted to make Cas come. I wanted to feel it all, his skin and his lips and his hair and his thighs, all at once. Wanted to taste his sweat and grab his ass, and I wanted him to feel the same way._ _

__I opened his pants without a thought, and he almost cried out with want when I touched him. It was too much, and not enough. Feeling his hands, connecting our lips, we were moving against each other and with each other and on each other, wild and driven, biting and clawing and thrusting, working each other to the sound of moans and rattled breaths and hushed conversations. _Please please please. Dean. Cas._ _ _

__It was hot. Furious. Excruciatingly slow, and yet too fast. We slipped, we moved, we breathed, we grimaced. He came fast and with a look of pure bliss in his face. I came like I was dying, with a grand explosion in my head and a loud groan while biting into his shoulder._ _

__I collapsed onto the mess between us, unable to hold myself up any longer. My heart rate was alarming, if not impressive, Cas’ own pounding heartbeat against my chest, as I just lay on top of him with my pants half down and the sticky mess already drying between us. The moment wasn’t pretty. But it was ours. And when I calmed down from the aftershocks enough, I managed to have a look at his face, and I found the same smile there that I had on mine._ _

__We dozed off afterwards, together and tangled into one another, finally sharing a bed without imminent panic attacks or life crises. _I love you_ , I thought when I cracked my eyes open after a while, finding Cas’ sleeping form next to me, not yet ready to tell him, not even when he wasn’t listening. _And I can’t help it._ _ _

__I think it was Kafka who once said something like it, or wrote it, I don’t remember where I read it. Love is everything that increases our life, expands it, enriches it. After all highs and lows. Love is as uncomplicated as a car. Problematic are only the driver, the passengers, and the road._ _

__I don’t think I’ll ever forget that case in Minnesota, or what happened afterwards, or before, and I still don’t know what was real and what wasn’t. But I really don’t care anymore. Maybe it had been an illusion that started all this, but now it was ours. Now we called the shots. We drove the car. We were behind that wheel, with affection and wants and needs in our hearts, thoughts and ideas in our heads, and our combined breathing in our bed, an even rumbling sound, like a car’s tires on a road._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was the last chapter, people. Thanks so much for everyone who read it, or will read it in the future. Thanks to everyone who took a little of their precious time to comment and/or leave kudos, and in advance to those who will, I appreciate that very much.  
> I started this story out as a simple (kind of stupid) idea, and many many things changed along the way. Some chapters and scenes just jumped out of me in a fit of mild madness, while others, especially the last ones, turned out real hard to write. Maybe because I didn't really want it to end.  
> Anyway, thanks again, bless you people.


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